I staggered to my feet. The helmet was cracked, visor shattered. I tore it off, gasping for air. And saw them. Men. Six, maybe seven. Emerging from the vehicles, from the tree line, closing in from every direction. Tactical gear. Professional formation. Not a mob. A unit.
Run.
I bolted. Made it fifty feet. Hands grabbing my arms, my jacket, my hair. Rough. Impersonal. I kicked out. Connected. Someone grunted. Too many. Too many of them, and I was already hurt from the fall.
“Hold her still.” Calm. Bored. Like this was part of their normal routine. “Someone get the needle.”
Needle. I threw my skull backward. Heard the crack of someone’s nose.
“Fuck! Little bitch?—”
Fingers wrenching my head to the side. Exposing my neck. The sting. Sharp. Cold. Then warmth flooding through my veins, dragging me under.
The last thing I saw was stars. Bright and cold and indifferent, scattered across the Louisiana sky.
The last thing I thought. Lorenzo.
The van stops. Doors open. Cool air rushes in. Hands haul me upright and I can’t pretend anymore. My eyes fly open, body jerking against the grip.
“Easy.” A man I don’t recognize. Clinical. “Drug’s in your system. You try to run, you’ll fall on your face.”
I blink against the light. We’re outside. Gravel beneath my feet. A building looming ahead. Old. Industrial. People disappear from buildings like this.
Two men flank me, grips locked around my biceps. A third walks ahead, opening a door. I’m shaking. My legs won’t hold steady. But my jaw is set.
Where am I. Who has me. What they want. Focus.
They march me through corridors that smell like dust and old metal. Past doors that don’t open. Past shadows that don’t move. The building holds its breath.
A room. Small. Concrete floor. A single chair bolted to the ground. No windows. They push me into the chair. Cut the ties on my wrists only to secure them again to the armrests withfresh restraints. My ankles get the same treatment. Then they leave. The door closes with a heavy thunk.
Silence. I’m alone.
The restraints first. Heavy gauge, cinched to the armrests. Bolted to the floor. No lateral play. I test each wrist. The right one sits a fraction lower on the bone. Not enough give. Not yet.
The room. One door, metal, hinges on the outside. No windows. Concrete walls, bare except for the fluorescent overhead that flickers every forty seconds. Bad ballast. Nothing I can reach.
The guards. Two flanked me on entry. A third opened the door. All three moved in formation, covering angles, positioned for draws. Professional. Which means protocols. Shift changes. Schedules. Patterns I can map if I’m here long enough.
I rotate my right wrist against the plastic. Slow. Steady. Friction generates heat. Heat makes polymer flex. It’s physics, not hope.
The door opens. A man enters. Older. Silver hair, expensive suit, a face built for dinner parties. He moves like he owns the air. Like he owns me.
That face. Flavio Benedetti. The patriarch. The one who sits at the top of the empire that took my sister.
This isn’t some lieutenant. Some middle manager sent to interrogate the hacker they caught. This is the head of the family. Here. Personally.
That changes the equation.
He stops in front of me. Studies me with mild interest. Like I’m a puzzle he’s deciding whether to solve or discard.
“Ghost,” he says. His voice smooth. Cultured. The kind that’s ordered terrible things without ever raising its tone. “Impressive work, getting out of that panic room. My people are still trying to figure out how you did it.”
I don’t answer. My throat is dry. I keep my expression blank.
He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “No sarcasm? I’ve read the transcripts of your forum posts. You had quite a mouth on you as Ghost.” He pulls a chair from somewhere, places it in front of me, sits. Crosses his legs like we’re having tea. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk. I have questions about your work. About everything you’ve learned hunting my family.”
“You drugged me and tied me to a chair.” My voice sounds wrong. Scraped raw. But the words come out steady. “Forgive me for not performing for you.”
