Sydney.Sydney would never let him give up like this. But she wasn’t here, and he was alone.
So all Winter could do was watch the gunman stand overhead and point the barrel of his gun down directly at him.
All he could do was watch him press against the trigger.
Then his hand brushed against the lining of his pants pocket. Sydney’s hotel crest pin. He’d completely forgotten about it.
No time to think. He grabbed it—the blade shot out of the pin, a needle gleaming in the setting sun.
He stabbed upward at the same time the man fired the gun.
32
The Final Flight
There was something about this flight, her sprint down these narrow, fluorescent-lit halls directly below the freight ship’s deck, that reminded Sydney of her hallway back home.
As she went, she kept trying in vain to latch her phone to the ship’s signal board. Was Winter still climbing up there? Had he made it yet to the bridge? She heard footsteps echoing behind her and darted down an intersection into a dimly lit portion of the hall. Her own steps clanked loudly, but she had no time to stop in her tracks now. All she knew was that there would be more steps chasing her if Winter had not climbed up the grid.
She wondered if he was still on his way. She wondered if he was still alive.
Several portholes appeared on the side of the wall, and she slowed momentarily to look outside, noting the side of the ship that she could see. She was nearing the bridge now.
Without warning, she turned another corner and ran right into two guards.
They stared at her for a split second. In that moment, Sydney crouched and rammed into the first guard. He grunted, seemingly surprised by her force, and slammed hard into the wall. The second guard pulled out his gun—but she was on him before he could use it, bringingher elbow up to knock him viciously in the jaw. His head hit the wall hard—his body crumpled.
The first guard seized her wrist and twisted it—
Go with the motion,Niall had taught her.
So she did. In the instant the guard tried twisting her wrist, she twisted with it, flipping against the wall before turning her momentum back toward him. In one move, she kicked out at him and connected with his chest.
He flew backward against the wall. She seized the second guard’s gun from its holster and whipped it hard against the first guard’s face.
His head jerked to one side. The light blinked out in his eyes, and he slumped against the wall.
Sydney pocketed the second gun and kept running, not bothering to look back at the unconscious bodies. Her lungs squeezed in protest, and she felt the familiar ache rippling through her chest. She saw her mother lying on her deathbed, wheezing in a slow rhythm, muttering at Sydney to stay.
It morphed into the memory of her wheezing alone in her room after one of her more intense training sessions, refusing to call Niall or Sauda for help for fear of revealing the truth to them.
Can you go early tomorrow?Niall had texted her that night in regard to a new mission.
Yes,she’d responded immediately.
Are you sure you can do it?
She’d gritted her teeth as she typed,I can do it.
She could do anything. She was going to become the best damn agent they ever had, worthy of staying, worthy of doing something meaningful, even if it killed her.
Run,she told herself now. She ignored her lungs and forced herself onward.
At last she saw a ladder at the end of the corridor that led back up tothe surface. The bridge should be up ahead—and with any luck, Winter should have arrived there long before she did.
She climbed up the ladder and threw her strength into opening the hatch. Evening light greeted her, along with a rush of cool, breezy air and the sight of the bridge window above a flight of stairs.
Sydney didn’t even allow herself a moment to feel relief. She just darted up onto the deck and toward the bridge. Already she could see men sprinting toward her from the other end of the deck. Winter was nowhere to be seen.
