Bonus Epilogue
KATIE
“I’m in.”
The words are barely a whisper, but they slice through my restless sleep instantly. I blink up at the dark ceiling, disoriented for several heartbeats before the familiar cocktail of antiseptics and medications pierces my nose and I remember where I am. The hospital.
Without moving my head, I shift my eyes towards the voice. An unfamiliar woman in nurse’s scrubs approaches my bed, still talking in hushed tones. “Yes, she’s asleep. I made sure before coming in.”
There’s a pause, and I realize she’s speaking to someone that’s not in the room—probably through an earpiece or something. My heart kicks into overdrive, my stomach clenching as reality hits me. Stacey sent someone to finish me from her prison cell.
Well, I’m not going to go down without a fight.
“She’s on IV. Should I add it there? Or inject directly into her veins?” Another pause. “Right, right. Sorry.”
I close my eyes and force my breathing to stay even, my body perfectly still, as she draws near. Her shadow drapes over my face, followed by the faintest tug at my IV line—gentle enough not to wake a truly sleeping patient.
Like hell.
My eyes snap open and I grab the woman’s wrist in a crushing grip. A syringe tumbles from her fingers, clattering to the floor as she jerks back with a strangled gasp. Our eyes meet, and I spot the earpiece immediately.
“Turn off the earpiece,” I growl, and her eyes widen comically as it registers to her that I’m awake. “Right. Fucking. Now.”
She remains frozen, and sweat slicks down my back the longer our stare-down drags on. I don’t know how many people she has waiting as backup or how many people are tuned into that earpiece. I need as few witnesses as possible to whatever’s about to happen inside this ward.
My free hand slips under my pillow, fingers closing around the scalpel I stole from a doctor’s instrument tray yesterday. In one fluid motion, I press the sharp edge against the fragile skin of her inner wrist, right where a doctor would usually check for a pulse.
“Right here is the radial artery. One deep slice and you’ll bleed out before whoever’s listening can reach you.” I let the blade bite just enough to draw a bead of blood. “Turn off the fucking device right now. I’m not kidding.”
She gulps and raises a trembling hand to comply. “Good. Now toss it towards the door.”
As soon as the earpiece skitters across the floor, I sit up fast—too fast—wincing when the room tilts sickeningly around me. Shit.
Without missing a beat, I drag her down onto the bed and move the scalpel to her throat. “Who the hell are you? What was that in the syringe? Who sent you?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you—”
I press harder, breaking skin until blood wells against the blade. “Stop. Moving. That. Hand.”
Her fingers had been creeping towards her hip—no doubt where she’s hiding a weapon.
“Do that again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.” My voice is dark and deadly, every fiber of my being radiating the threat even as another wave of dizziness hits me. Damn it. I’m still a little drugged.
Immediately, both hands shoot up in surrender, but her mouth stays stubbornly shut.
If she was sent by Stacey, someone in the FBI, or any random contractor, she wouldn’t be able to tell me anything. She’s probably being used just like I was, and will remain silent to the point of death to protect whoever is being held against her.
“Take out your handcuffs. Now,” I bluster, hoping she’s an agent. If she is, she’ll have them on her. “With one hand,” I add sharply when she starts lowering both towards her waist. “No funny business, or you’ll be painting these sheets red.”
“I know that,” she snaps, sounding annoyed. “You think I want to die here?”
With one hand, she unhooks a pair of handcuffs from her belt and passes them to me. I snatch them quickly with my free hand, keeping the scalpel steady at her throat. “You’re going to kill me,” she whimpers when I accidentally press deeper, drawing more blood.
“You’ll survive,” I say dryly. “Now strip. Lose the scrub top.”
Once she shrugs out of the top, I cuff her to the bed’s short headboard and yank out the needle in my vein, slapping my hand over the puncture to stop the bleeding. She watches me with murderous eyes as I slip out of the flimsy hospital gown with the gaping back and into her scrubs.
My gaze falls on the holster on her upper thigh, and without hesitating, I take the pistol out, earning myself a string of creative curses.
“No hard feelings, right?” I say with a smirk that makes her snarl.
“Fuck you.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m into men. Good luck with that, though.” I giggle at my own joke, even though it’s not remotely funny. Were my words slurring? Shit, I need to get out of here. Fast.
If even Rafael's security isn’t enough to protect me from my enemies—whoever the hell they are—it means I’m no longer safe here. Without really expecting a reply, I ask, “Who sent you?” while tugging on her sneakers. They’re tight, but they’ll do.
She narrows her eyes but stays mute. Tucking her gun into the small of my back, I turn to the cart she wheeled in. What are the odds she’ll start screaming and create a ruckus as soon as I’m out of here? Pretty damn high.
So I crouch to the floor, searching for the syringe she dropped earlier.
It takes an agonizing minute of crawling on hands and knees to find it, my vision becoming increasingly cloudy.
Shit. They definitely gave me a sedative earlier.
I’m going to pass out soon. I need to get the hell out of here before that happens.
My fingers brush cool plastic beneath the bed, and I gasp with relief as I close my hand around the syringe and struggle back to my feet. My captive’s eyes go wide when she sees what I’m holding.
“No, please, don’t.”
“What’s in here?” I ask as I squint at the clear liquid in the syringe.
She just shakes her head frantically, mouth still stubbornly shut.
“Well, you’re in a hospital. I’m sure the medical staff can handle whatever this is—you’ll survive.” Guilt tries to rise, but I shove it down. She was about to pump this into my veins without a second thought! I’m just protecting myself.
I walk up to her and grab one of her cuffed wrists. She starts thrashing, her legs kicking wildly as I remove the protective cap covering the needle. “It’s probably a sedative, right?” I glance down at her, and the way her lips thin and her pupils dilate confirms I’m right.
“Stop being such a big baby,” I mutter as I sink the needle into what I hope is a vein and depress the plunger, emptying the contents into her bloodstream.
“Mother… fucker,” she curses as the drug takes effect.
Done, I step back from her, tossing the empty syringe to the floor. She lets out a massive yawn, and I smirk, “Sleepy time. Night night.”
“Fork yew,” she slurs around another yawn.
And that’s my cue to leave.
Without a backward glance, I move towards the cart and pull my hair up into a tight bun, twisting and tucking the ends to change my appearance as much as possible.
Please don’t let the guards outside recognize me.
Gulping, I grip the cart’s handle and push it towards the door, keeping my head down as I step out. The guards’ eyes burn into me, but they don’t move to intercept me. I turn my cart towards the lobby, maintaining steady steps and even breathing.
Nobody stops me.
I fight the urge to increase my pace, rolling my shoulders like I’m just another bored hospital worker on a late-night stroll.
As I round the corner at the end of the hallway, a quiet breath of relief leaks out.
Another hallway stretches ahead of me, and I spot a door at the far end that might be my salvation.
Almost there.
When I reach the door, I park the cart against the wall and fling it open, grinning as cool night air embraces me. A back door. Jackpot.
“Nurse Becca?”
Fuck.
I stiffen at the voice, turning my head the slightest bit to see a nurse standing in an open doorway, looking confused. “I’m taking my break,” I tell her, and before she can respond, I quickly step outside and shut the door behind me.
Out of sight, I jog down the short flight of stairs into the back alley—I must have been on the first floor.
As soon as my feet touch the pavement, the door I just exited opens, but I don’t look back to check who it is.
I break into a sprint, each step a battle against the fog in my head and the weight pulling at my limbs.
The alley spits me onto the main street, and the hospital’s front entrance comes into view.
Just need a cab… or a car to hotwire… or—
Pain explodes through my hip as tires squeal against asphalt. The world tilts sideways, and suddenly I’m staring up at the star-scattered sky, every bone in my body screaming in protest.
I got hit by a car.
A door opens and someone approaches. “Are you okay? You ran into the street so suddenly.”
It’s a man’s voice. I roll to my feet and look up at him. He takes one look at my face and inhales sharply. “Katie.”
He knows me.
My heart squeezes and I spin around, but before I can break into another run, strong arms wrap around me from behind and a sack drops over my head, plunging me into darkness as I fight like a wildcat.
Never let them take you to a second location. One of our very first training sessions at the academy drilled that into me. Better to die fighting here than be transported somewhere else where God knows what can be done to you. There are fates much worse than death.
I thrash harder, clawing at the thick arms holding me, kicking backward at his shin and whipping my head up, hoping to catch his nose. Instead, I connect with something much harder—his jaw, maybe, or even his forehead. But definitely not his nose.
Stars burst behind my eyes, and my knees buckle as I sway.
Rookie mistake.
My attacker uses my momentary weakness to tackle me to the ground, driving the air from my lungs. My hands are wrenched behind my back, and the familiar bite of handcuffs closes around my wrists.
Fuck.
I’m hauled to my feet and passed off to someone else—another man. This one ushers me forward, and despite dragging my feet and fighting his grip, it’s useless.
I’m shoved into a vehicle, two men sliding in on either side of me to cage me in. Then the engine growls to life, the car speeds forward, and the last of my hope dies.
This is it—I’m done for.
We drive for what feels like hours, taking so many turns I lose count. After the fifth, I stop trying to track our route and just sit there mutinously, waiting to see where they’re taking me.
At least they didn’t search me properly, so the gun I stole is still safely tucked in the crack of my ass.
If I can just figure out a way out of these cuffs, I can defend myself when the time comes.
When the car finally stops, I brace myself to be dragged out, but that doesn’t happen. The doors open and the men flanking me get out, leaving me alone in what I assume is the backseat.
I stay rigid, expecting to be hit or something. Instead, someone else slides in next to me, and even though I can’t see who it is, I can feel the shift in atmosphere. This must be the person in charge.
“I should kill you for what you and Emilia did,” the person says, his voice artificially distorted like he’s speaking through a voice modulator. “Pretty ballsy of you both.”
So he doesn’t want me to recognize him. That means he plans to let me live.
The realization relaxes me and makes my tongue reckless. “Then do it,” I mutter, irritated. “But you won’t, because you need me for something. If you were planning to kill me, you wouldn’t bother hiding your identity.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then—crack!
My head whips to the right, pain blooming across my cheek from the vicious slap. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth where my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek. I keep my lip pressed together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me spit blood.
“You don’t talk back to me,” he says calmly. “You’re lucky Kayla is such a sweet girl.”
No, no, no.
The name hits harder than the slap, freezing me for a beat before instinct takes over.
I scramble towards the opposite door, wrists twisting uselessly in the cuffs as I fumble for the handle.
It doesn’t budge. Panic claws at my throat, then I’m thrashing my head, desperate to shake the damn sack off, lungs burning with ragged breaths.
“You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you, Katie. Your struggling is pointless.”
“You fucking asshole!” I whirl towards him. “Don’t you dare touch my sister! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Your rage is futile, agent. Your sister is safe from my touch—for now. Of course, I had to make her feel the consequences of your betrayal, so she’s not too well at the moment. But she’ll live.”
All the fight drains out of me, my limbs going weak. My worst fear about going to Emily with everything I knew about Stacey’s operations was exactly this—Kayla getting hurt. But I couldn’t keep destroying my best friend turned sister to protect the biological sister I hadn’t seen in years.
“Who are you?” I demand. Stacey and her allies were all arrested—or so I thought. And for a moment, I’d let myself believe Kayla and I were finally free.
“That’s none of your concern.” The satisfaction in his voice is palpable, even through the voice distortion device. “If you want to keep both your life and your sister’s, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”
I slump against the leather seat, overwhelmed by a crushing wave of exhaustion.
Is this all I’m good for? Being blackmailed and used?
First Stacey, now this faceless asshole?
When will Kayla stop being held over my neck like an albatross?
Will that ever happen? Or am I doomed to go from one blackmailer to another, never truly free?
My breath hitches as tears sting my eyes, blurring the darkness around me before spilling down my cheeks.
Suddenly, I’m grateful for the sack. At least it means this fucker can’t see my helpless tears.
“What do you want?” I ask softly, my voice barely a whisper.
“I have a mission for you.”