Not fear.
Betrayal.
No.
Not betrayal exactly.
Something worse.
Doubt.
“Hannah,” he says quietly without looking at me, “do you know what he’s talking about?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Certain.
Because I don’t.
The commander tilts his head slightly.
“You truly have no idea.”
The words settle wrong immediately.
Like he’s surprised by that.
Russ notices too.
“What exactly are you implying?” he asks sharply.
The commander finally looks toward him.
“The doctor’s convoy was not chosen randomly.”
Ice slides slowly through my bloodstream.
No.
No, that’s impossible.
I stare at him.
“You targeted humanitarian workers?”
“No,” he replies calmly. “We targeted her.”
Every bit of air leaves my lungs.
Clay goes terrifyingly still beside me.
The commander gestures casually toward me.
“Doctor Bowers completed specialized survival and resistance training a few months ago under a classified program.”
My pulse spikes instantly.
