Page 240 of Rise of Ink and Smoke


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If Jag is in there…

My pulse roars in my ears as I step closer, every sense on high alert.I brace for anything.Another body, a final stand, Jag on the floor with his throat torn open.

I push the door fully open.

More blood.

A knocked-over table.

No Jag.

He isn’t here, and neither is his duffel bag.The corner, where the bag sat only hours earlier, is empty.

He left.

And everyone between him and the exit paid for it.

Dove.

She flashes through my head like a siren, and my phone is in my hand before I realize it.

My thumb shakes against the screen as I swipe to call her security team.But before I connect, the screen flashes with an incoming call.

GI Joe Carl

“Carl.”I sheathe the knife in my boot and head to the door.“Jag’s gone.Guards are dead.Move Dove.Now!Get her to the yacht—”

“Sir,” Carl snaps.“She already left.”

“What?”I stumble onto the sidewalk.

“She said she didn’t feel well and wanted to head back to the yacht to wait for you.That’s why I’m calling.We initiated a location change and have eyes on her.”

“The entire security team is with her?”

“Affirmative, sir.Did you say Mr.Rath is gone?And the guards—?”

“Rath is gone.Guards are dead.”The phone bounces against my ear as I tear down the street.“I’m coming to you.Where exactly—?”

“Hold on.”An explosion of wrong sounds blasts through the line.Wind.Shouting.Footsteps pounding.

My pulse skyrockets, and I pick up my pace.

“Shit!She’s running.”Carl barks commands at his team, panting.“She bolted.Took off through the harbor.She shook the two closest guys—”

“Why is she running?”I shout, sprinting down the street.“Where is she?”

The sidewalk blurs.The sky tilts.My boots slam pavement hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“Where is she?”I yell.

“Heading east through the docks,” Carl wheezes.“Near the fish processors.”

I cut corners, and people shout as I shove past them.Someone curses.Someone stumbles.I don’t slow down.My lungs burn.My legs scream.I push harder.

“She’s fast.”Carl’s footfalls pound through the phone.“Jesus, she’s fast.”

My chest locks up with fear so sharp it tries to fold me in half.