Almost.
“Not happening.”
There it is.
The reaction he wanted.
His expression hardens instantly.
Good.
Angry people make mistakes.
He crouches in front of me and grips my chin hard enough to force my face upward.
Not painful.
Just controlling.
I hate that more.
“Your friends,” he says carefully. “They come for you.”
My pulse doesn’t even hesitate.
“Yeah,” I answer quietly. “They will.”
Something cold slides into his smile.
Wrong enough to make my stomach tighten.
“We are waiting.”
The words settle heavy in the room.
And suddenly I understand.
This wasn’t random.
Wasn’t desperation.
They took me on purpose.
Not because they needed a doctor.
Because they needed bait.
And I walked right into their hands.
23
Russ
We don’t stop until the engines disappear.
Until the gunfire fades behind us.
Until the canyon finally goes quiet except for exhausted breathing and boots scraping rock.
