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“I am.” My eyes fix on Charlotte across the room. Her slender shoulders curl in, her body trembling with fear she can’t hide.

Every inch of me wants to run to her and get her far away from here. But tonight, we have a plan in place for Igor Vasiliev, and I know my brothers need my help.

So, when the time is right, I will save her.

And when that day comes, no one on this goddamn earth will ever stop me.

My knuckles drag across my chest as an ache spreads like a wildfire throughout it.

I promised her freedom.

And I failed her.

I failed Charlotte Johnson.

And now…she’s dead.

Chapter three

Charlotte

Ahigh-pitched squeak jolts me awake, my eyelids fluttering open as the bus rolls to a stop.

“Sorry, folks,” the driver says over the speakers. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a bit while we wait for a replacement bus.”

A chorus of groans follows as I sit up, hugging my bag to my chest and looking outside the window beside me. Rain bounces off the concrete relentlessly, deep puddles already forming.

“Why have we stopped?” I ask no one in particular, leaning closer to the glass, searching for the cause of our unexpected delay.

“Flat tire,” a woman’s voice answers from behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find an older woman seated across the aisle, her eyes glued to the piece in her hands, which she’s currently crocheting at a steady rhythm.

Turning toward the window, I swipe my palm across the fogged glass, trying to figure out where we are. All I see are trees and patches of grass stretching into the distance down the length of the road. Scanning farther down the road, I spot a small run-down convenience store, appearing to be the only building in sight.

“Where are we?”

“Just crossed the South Carolina border.”

South Carolina? That’s as far as we’ve gotten? I tighten my hold on my bag, taking a steady breath. I had assumed we were closer to New York than that.

“You in a rush to get to New York?” the woman asks.

I let out a slow breath and press my back against the window, turning to face the woman with a nod. “Yes, there’s… There’s someone I need to see.”

She looks up from her stitching, and her expression softens as she takes in the tension I assume is etched all across my face. “I expect this should be resolved by the evening. It might put us back a day or two, but a new bus should be here before long.”

“That’s good.” I offer a grateful smile as I loosen my grip on my bag and sink back into my seat.

Her brows draw together as she regards me. “Do I know you?”

I still, my pulse quickening. I shake my head. “No.”

“Huh.” She tilts her head. “I could have sworn I’ve seen your face before.”

I swallow hard. “I get that a lot.” Dropping my gaze to my bag, I lift one shoulder. “I must just have one of those faces.”

She studies me for another moment before setting her needles in her lap. Leaning across the aisle, she extends her hand. “Name’s Maureen.”