Page 102 of Rafe’s Future

This whole thing had been devised as an elaborate trap to torture and lure him in. It was a trap, and she was the bait. She could see it all so clearly now.

Now that it was too late. Rafe had already been sent that picture. Lena could only imagine his reaction when he’d first opened Henry’s message. She knew what fear did to him, because she’d seen it in his eyes when she’d insisted on staying with him at the cabin.

He was so scared he’d lose her that night . . . and now, he had. It wasn’t on her. Neither of them could have ever seen this one coming. But still, she hated the idea that she could become the source of that same kind of pain.

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, and almost immediately, she heard her inner self shout out to her⁠—

Enough!

Her eyes opened because her subconscious was right. She wasn’t going to sit here crying poor pitiful me. She was a seasoned CIA operative, dammit. She’d survived wars, assassins, bombs, and bullets. Betrayals and men who had believed killing her would be easy.

She wasn’t going down easy. Lena certainly wasn’t going to die at the hands of some spoiled, entitled kid with a grudge.

Henry’s not a kid.

No, he wasn’t. Henry Stanton was a killer, just like his father. And that meant she couldn’t underestimate him.

The realization settled some of the tension inside her. A reminder that she had killed people, too. All bad, of course. Men who had intended to hurt innocent people and destroy countless lives.

There was a stark difference between her and someone like Henry. But she knew what killers were capable of, and Lena also knew how to survive them.

She drew a slow, careful breath before testing the restraints again. Before, she hadn’t had much time to truly attempt an escape, thanks to her alone time being interrupted by Henry and his goon.

Now was different. They were gone, and the hallway had grown silent.

Lena lowered her gaze and studied the folding chair. Cheap metal. Lightweight. Could be useful if she could get herself free.

She still faced the door, and somewhere beyond stood at least one guard. Probably armed. Probably bored.

Let’s hope so.

Bored people made mistakes.

Lena shifted her wrists carefully, ignoring the biting pain as she worked one hand inward. With her thumb toward her palm, she kept working against the thin plastic strip.

She didn’t rush. If Stanton wanted her dead, she’d already be gone. No, she was bait, and as such, they’d keep her alive until Rafe arrived.

Part of her—a huge freaking part—wanted that to be now. But the other part had Lena hoping he and his team would wait at least until she was free. That way, she’d be an asset, as opposed to a liability.

You’re beat to hell and weaponless. Not sure how much help you’ll be.

She ignored the useless thoughts and kept working against the ties that weren’t designed to come apart. Lena then pulled her knees toward her chest as far as the restraints at her ankles allowed. She leaned forward, the move sending a burning stretch through her arms as she moved.

Then she began to rock herself side-to-side. Again, and again, and⁠—

Lena braced herself as the chair started to tip. Her shoulder slammed against the floor, the impact sending a burst of pain through her arm and ribs. But she bit down hard enough to taste blood to keep from screaming.

When she no longer felt the need to vomit, she allowed herself several slow, deep breaths.

You can do this, Price. Don’t you dare give up now.

Lena looked down, noticing the way one of the chair’s legs had bent. Hope flourished. The new angle gave her the leverage she needed.

She twisted that ankle and leg. Hard. The plastic tie stretched and pulled, eventually snapping against the incessant strain. With one down and three to go, she wasted no time moving on to the remaining ties.

One of her wrists finally broke free. Her other ankle. The final tie. Less than a minute later, Lena was standing.

The room tilted violently, and she caught herself against one of the chair’s upside down legs. When the dizziness had passed, she scanned the room again. Her eyes landed on the narrow space between the door’s hinges and the wall.