As the masked man snatches her, his sleeves inch up, revealing black gauze around his wrists, threaded neatly with thin white thread.
“Fucking hell.”Jag’s breathing goes ragged, heaving his chest, as he slumps back against the van.
“What?”Panic detonates, shooting shrapnel through my veins.“You recognize him.”
“Yeah.”He squeezes his eyes shut, and a single tear slips free.
That’s all it takes.My control snaps, sending my hysteria from functional to feral.
“Who has her?”I shove my face in his and roar, “Where is she?”
He blinks, directs a pointed look at Mikhail, at Oliver in the front, and shakes his head.
A shut-mouth, don’t-askno.
But when he turns back to me and sees my expression, his stubborn armor slips.
The horror must be written all over me.His eyes go round, filling with something akin to affection or mercy.He opens his arms and pulls me in.His hands cup my jaw, and his thumbs rest against my cheeks.
“She’s safe,” he whispers.
“Safe?”
“I promise.”He holds my gaze and lets me look as long as I need, laying it all out there for my inspection, for my doubt, for my fear.
I search his eyes and find only certainty.
Air flees my lungs in a violent rush.“Safe where?”
He glances at the van’s occupants and looks back at me, apologetic but resolute.
I don’t push.I think.
Whoever Jag is mixed up with isn’t a name he’ll drop casually.That narrows the field fast.If he won’t say it in front of the Russians, they must not play well with whoever’s holding her.
“He’s retired.”I gesture at Oliver, keeping my voice low.
Jag arches a brow, but it barely works given the swollen state of his face.
“Fine.Does that mean she’s not a hostage?”I whisper.“She’s a protected asset?”
He nods and lets his head rest against the wall like it weighs a ton.Spent.He rolls his face toward me, inches away from mine, watching me process.
He believes she’s okay.
I see it in the way his shoulders finally loosen.In the tear he didn’t mean to let escape.In the way his hands stop shaking.Most of all, I see it in the way he looks at me.Open, pleading, asking me to trust him with the one thing that matters.
I do.
I trust him because I know this about Jag Rath.He would carve out his heart before letting harm touch her.He would burn every bridge, sell every secret, and ruin himself without hesitation if that’s what it took.
So if he says she’s safe, she is.
We’re not done.Not even close.The second we’re alone, I’ll demand the whole story.I’ll want names, locations, motivations, and an idiot-proof backup plan that comes with vodka, eyeliner, and a spare apocalypse.
But for now, I wait, clinging to the one solid truth I have left.
We’re coming for her together.
