Her stomach clenched.Recent.Very recent.
Conall crouched beside the body, careful not to disturb the scene.
Stop analyzing him, she told herself.Focus on survival.
But she couldn’t help watching the way he examined the victim with genuine gravity.No satisfaction.No coldness.Just the grim efficiency of someone who’d seen death before but hadn’t grown callous to it.His movements were clinical, professional.Not the actions of someone comfortable with violence for its own sake.
No identification.But look at this.He indicated the man’s hands—soft, uncalloused.Desk worker, not field operative.Civilian, maybe.Or support staff.
Someone who knew too much,she concluded.Which means we’re not just prisoners.We’re loose ends.
Their gazes met across the dead man, and for a moment the mate bond flared so strong it nearly stole her breath.
In his eyes she saw the same realization that was crystallizing in her mind: Whoever had arranged their capture planned to kill them when they were done with whatever they needed them for.
We need to move,he said, voice tight with urgency.
She stood.The silver wound had stopped bleeding, but it was far from healed.She could manage for now, but extended combat or running would be problematic.
Conall noticed her slight wince.
Of course he did.
The mate bond probably broadcast her every sensation to him like a twisted radio frequency.
How bad?he asked quietly.
I’m fine.
His expression said he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push.Smart.She wasn’t ready to show vulnerability to him.
They found two more bodies before they located the exit.Both executed the same way.Both obviously support staff rather than trained operatives.
Someone was cleaning house, eliminating witnesses.
The exit led to a loading dock.Beyond that, the desert landscape stretched under a star-scattered sky.Freedom, if they could reach it without being spotted.
There.Conall pointed to tire tracks in the dusty ground.Recent enough to still be clearly defined.They’ll have vehicles somewhere nearby.Probably with guards.
How do you want to play this?The question slipped out before she could stop it, sounding too much like she was asking for his opinion.Like she considered him an equal partner in this escape.
Which she didn’t.Obviously.
His surprise at being consulted was subtle but there.Depends.How’s your leg holding up?
She wanted to lie.Wanted to project strength and independence.But practical survival trumped pride, and if he was planning to betray her, better to know now than when they were in the middle of another firefight.
It’ll hold,she said.But I’m not at full capacity.
He nodded, processing this information without judgment.Then we go quiet.Avoid engagement if possible.Get to transportation and get clear before they realize we’re gone.
Sensible.Professional.Exactly what she would have decided.
That doesn’t mean anything, she reminded herself.Good tactics are good tactics.Doesn’t prove he’s innocent.
But doubt continued to creep in around the edges of her certainty.She’d fully believed the Stewart twins had killed her father, and now she was working with one of them to stay alive.
And he was competent.Protective.
