Teresa held up her phone, a FaceTime call on the screen.
The feed showed Liam walking through crowds. Airport crowds. He stopped at a gate, checked his phone, settled into one of those uncomfortable chairs travelers knew so well.
Nimue’s stomach plummeted to her toes.
He’d left. Left the hospital. Left her.
The camera followed him—predatory, patient. At least the Bratva couldn’t smuggle weapons past security. But underestimating them had nearly gotten her killed once already.
“Give me what I want”—Teresa pocketed the phone—“or he’s dead. You have an hour. And don’t think about warning him—we’ll kill him before he can answer the phone.”
Doubt must have flickered across Nimue’s face because Teresa leaned closer, her breath warm against Nimue’s cheek. “I don’t need a weapon to kill someone. You should know that.”
The door creaked.
Teresa yanked her mask up, spinning away like she was checking a chart. She slipped out, brushing past another nurse coming in to check on Nimue.
Perfect cover.
Nimue’s chest heaved, pain flaring with each breath. She needed a plan. Needed to save Liam. But her body felt like it was filled with wet sand, and she didn’t even have a phone.
The nurse picked up her wrist, checked her pulse, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh my. Let’s get that blood pressure.” She strapped the cuff onto Nimue’s arm and took down her stethoscope.
Yeah, that was probably pretty high right now.
The door opened again. Emberly walked in, brow furrowed, but—thank goodness—she had Nimue’s pack.
The nurse finished, made a stern face, and then turned to Emberly. “She needs her rest. Don’t stay long.”
Emberly considered the woman as she left, then turned back to Nimue. “He must’ve stepped out. Stein said he went for air, but that was a while ago. He should be back soon.”
“He left.” The words tasted like ash. Tears spilled over before she could stop them.
Emberly frowned and sank into the chair beside her. “Trust me. I saw his face when I arrived. That man cares about you. I’m sure?—”
“He’s at the airport. Already at the gate.” Sleep tugged at her, but she fought it. “Dig in the pack. There’s a gold bar. It isn’t four million, but it’s worth maybe a hundred grand. Maybe enough to buy time.”
“Buy time for what?” Emberly’s eyes sharpened. “What’s going on?”
The weight of it all—the responsibility, the secrets, the fear—crashed over Nimue. She couldn’t carry it alone anymore.
“Teresa was here. Just now. Disguised as a nurse.”
Emberly turned in her chair, started to get up.
“Not that one. She’s long gone. But she’ll be back. She wants four million and files I took from her. She showed me Liam on video—at the airport. She says that she’ll kill Liam if I don’t giveher what she wants in an hour. And he doesn’t even know he’s being hunted.”
“Teresa’s here,” Emberly said, clearly stuck on that information. “This doesn’t make sense. If Alan Martin knew about missing money and files, he’d send a team. Not just her and a couple thugs.”
“It was her. I swear.”
“I believe you.” Emberly paced to the window. “But Martin’s not sloppy. He doesn’t leave things to chance. Which means she’s not working with him. This is rogue—but why?” She turned back. “What exactly did she say?”
“She said she needed the files and the four million. She said?—”
“Four million is pocket change compared to what they usually handle. Why is she fixated on that specific amount?” Emberly’s eyes were calculating.
“She said something about Martin hunting her, but my head is fuzzy. And all I can think about is Liam.”
