She lifts one hand in a small gesture.
Two men step into the light behind her.
Professional.
Disciplined.
Weapons steady.
Eyes cold.
Mercenaries.
“You burn my town,” I say quietly. “You threaten my family. And you think you’re walking away from this?”
She smiles.
A slow, amused smile.
“I already am.”
Her gaze drops to me in the bottom of the pit.
“You are the one not walking away.”
She steps closer to the edge, peering down into the darkness where I lie.
Her eyes glitter in the faint light.
“You are not the prize, Mr. Jennings.”
A pause.
Her smile widens slightly.
“You are the message.”
Then she steps back.
And the world goes dark.
25
Laney
Iwake up because the baby is crying.
Not hungry.
Not uncomfortable.
Scared.
I know the difference now.
The sound is thin and shaky, the kind that comes from somewhere deeper than a simple need.
The cabin is quiet.
