Her voice is tight, like she’s been holding her breath for an hour.
“Because he’s more valuable broken,” I say calmly. “And because she wants you to see him.”
Laney goes pale.
“She wants me to trade,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
The word hangs in the air between us.
Wolf glances at me from the driver’s seat.
“And you’re not going to let that happen.”
“No,” I reply.
I lean forward slightly, studying the road disappearing into fog.
“We’re going to let her think it’s happening.”
Trigger lets out a low chuckle from the back seat.
“I like this plan.”
Of course he does.
Men like Trigger prefer the kind of plan where the enemy thinks they’re winning.
I turn to Laney.
She’s holding the baby close, her fingers gently brushing the tiny blanket around her daughter’s face.
“She will contact you,” I tell her. “Soon. When she does, you stall. You agree to everything. You sound scared.”
Laney swallows.
“And you?”
I glance toward the shadow of the processing plant emerging through the fog.
Rusting towers.
Concrete silos.
Dark windows staring out across the lake like empty eyes.
“I’ll already be inside her trap.”
The truck slows as we approach the outer fence line.
The processing plant rises out of the fog like a concrete corpse.
Dead.
Silent.
Waiting.
