Page 237 of Operation: Defiance

“What else does she have?” Chad snaps.

This time, he cuffs my shoulder, sending a sharp spike of pain through the bandage. I count Mark’s steady heartbeats now, visible above the collar of his gray shirt.

As if he knows I’m doing it, he shakes his head, passes Chad the tablet, and tells him to bag up my shit and take it to processing. “Oh, and get the medic back in here. We’re not leaving him with a sharp object he can use.”

Chad sweeps my wallet, key fob, and all the small things that belong to a life into a plastic evidence bag, seals it, and strides into the hall.

After another minute, the same guy who patched me up steps through the door. He’s efficient, removing the needle and taping a wad of gauze tightly to my elbow before wheeling the IV pole out of the room.

Mark pushes to his feet and rounds the table to stare at the restraints. Pulling a key from his pocket, he flips up a cover I hadn’t noticed between the two steel rings, unlocks it, and slides the rings forward three inches before relocking them.

The new position forces me to lean forward in the chair, my shoulders rounded, core engaged. It’s a small change, but the strain will build in ways I can’t prepare for.

With a light slap to the tape wrapped around my elbow, he adds, “You’ll decide talking is easier. Eventually.”

The door closes behind him with a quiet click.

Time stretches under the lights. The pressure bandage around my ribs holds steady, but every breath reminds me the glass was real and the cut beneath the wrap is still open.

I shift slightly, testing the new angle, and my shoulders protest immediately.

Good.

Pain sharpens the mind.

I settle into the discomfort and focus on the clock in my head. One minute. Two. Three. Raine’s still safe. Still working. She won’t stop until GSD is shut down for good.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Raine

The spare burner phone feels heavy in my hand as I cycle through half a dozen different music tracks, searching for something that might settle me. Ocean waves, singing bowls, an instrumental option that I skip because it was playing the first time we kissed…

I pick a low, steady acoustic track and stare at it for a moment until my brain catches up with what’s actually wrong.

There’s no combination of sounds in existence that will fix what’s wrong. Not with Asher locked away in an interrogation room with agents trained to break the strongest operators in the world.

His freedom depends on me.

Setting the phone back on the mantle, I return to the kitchen table. My phone sits beside the laptop, face up. The screen has been dark since 10:57 a.m. Since Asher’s last message to me.

Tessa flagged for intake tonight. They’ll probably pivot once they have me, but call Inara. She’ll get Tessa somewhere safe.

I don’t want to involve anyone else in this mess. But if I’d known—been able to warn Tessa the first time she came to me—she might not have been sent through Coherent Path.

She’s my responsibility. Not only because I was her mentor. Because I’m her friend.

Inara answers on the second ring. “Raine?”

Her voice is warm enough that the hard knot in my stomach loosens a fraction.

“I…need a favor. It’s not small. Or without risk.”

“Asher keeps telling me we’re square, but he needs a lesson on tit for tat. Saving my life means he—and you—get to ask for whatever you need,” she says. “Unless it involves defusing a bomb in a sealed train car. That’s my line in the sand.”

For a moment, I’m not certain I’ve heard her properly, but then she chuckles. “Sorry. Without knowing my history, that probably made no sense. What do you need?”

I grip the coin tighter and do my best to keep my voice level, as if that alone will bring Asher back to me.