But fear and panic aren’t the same thing.
Panic gets people killed.
Fear keeps them sharp.
I shift slightly against the wall, ignoring the sharp burn in my ribs.
“I’ve heard that before.”
His eyes narrow fractionally.
“You believe your people come.”
Not believe.
Know.
I let the certainty settle fully into my expression before answering.
“They’re already looking.”
The silence stretches.
I can almost see him measuring the confidence in my voice against whatever plan he built around taking me.
Good.
Let him question it.
“They die if they come here,” he says finally.
Flat.
Certain.
Wrong.
I tilt my head slightly. “You really think that?”
His expression hardens a fraction.
There.
A crack.
Small.
Still there.
He shifts closer, lowering his voice. “You think too highly of them.”
“No.” I hold his gaze steadily. “I think you don’t understand who’s coming for me.”
That lands harder.
I see it in the way his jaw tightens before he masks it again.
Interesting.
