--- *****************************POV: Rowe************************* --- Mack didn’t speak after Aliana it. He just stared at her. That kind of stare made men break before the interrogation even started. But Aliana? She didn’t flinch. I didn’t know if that made her brave or just numb from all the damage she’d already done. Either way, I kept watching Mack’s hands—because I’d seen that look in his eyes before. The last time was right before he punched through a wall when Claire was taken. And honestly? He looked even worse now. “She gets one chance,” he said at last. His voice was low, almost too calm. That was what made it dangerous. I gave a slow nod, already shifting my weight closer to her without making it obvious. She might have cracked the case wide open with what she just said—but that didn’t mean she was safe in here. Not from Mack. And maybe not even from herself. Reeve was already at work, his fingers dancing over the keyboard like the keys owed him money. “Sc
*****************************POV:Aliana************************* --- My phone chimed with a text. It was sharp. Too loud in the stillness of my luxurious apartment. I didn’t move right away. I curled myself on my couch, a half-finished bowl of cereal sitting soggy on the coffee table. The TV played reruns on low volume, but i wasn’t really watching. I hadn’t watched anything properly in weeks. Not since the nightmares started up again. Not since Claire and Mack had pulsed me from Agyis Dynamics basement like i was a forgotten relic. That rescue was supposed to be the end. I thought I'd finally started healing. Or at least pretending i could. It's not as easy as it seems, I tried, and I'm still trying. I need to get shit together to win over Liam-he needs to be taken down. He's a psychopath. But when my phone buzzed again, my body knew before my mind did. A tightness locked around my lungs. My stomach twisted in tivht knots. My breath dropped. Something was wrong.
****************************POV: Henry Allister******************** --- The news came to me not with fanfare or urgency, but in a tone so grave it drained the blood from my chest in one word. “Claire.” Reeve's voice was clear on the secure line, and the moment he said her name, I knew. I closed the file I was reviewing and sat back in my chair. New York's skyline flickered behind me—calm, unaware, unbothered. The rest of the world didn’t know what had happened. Not yet. But I did. “She’s gone?” I asked, though the answer was already written in the quiet pause that followed. “Yes, sir. We have confirmation. Abducted six days ago. Mack kept the circle tight while they verified intel.” I shut my eyes. Six days. Six long days of silence. And I hadn’t known. “Who?” I asked, even though the acid had already begun rising in my throat. “We believe it’s Liam.” He muttered The name hit harder than expected, though it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t the shock of it. It was th
******************************POV: Mack************************* --- I checked my old diamond wrist watch, it was 00:48am. Time sprinted like flash man. It became a luxury I couldn’t afford. Which was actually unusual for me-i afforded everything i ever wanted, went to places I wanted, but I couldn’t stop or rewind the time to when Claire was abducted -I could have stopped it. I ran my hands into my hair in frustration and fury. I stepped out of the war room before I shattered something I’d regret. The door shut behind me with a quiet click, but it might as well have been a damn explosion with the pressure in my chest. My boots crunched over the loose gravel lining the edge of the compound, the cold night air biting into the sweat slicking my neck. My hands were shaking—barely—but enough to make me shove them into my jacket before anyone else noticed. I couldn’t be seen like this. Not yet. Not when I was supposed to be the one keeping everyone together. Directing e
********************************* POV: Claire***************** --- The first lie you tell yourself in captivity is that you can wait. Wait for a better chance. Wait for the door to be left open. Wait for him to slip up, to turn his back, to trust you. But waiting becomes a slow kind of rot. It eats your hope in tiny pieces, one blink at a time, until even breathing feels like a betrayal of the life you had before. So I stopped waiting. I started planning__strategizing and at the same time, waiting till it's the right time to implement everything that I have planned. And today, I found my second thread. After breakfast—tea I barely tasted and toast I didn’t touch—Liam handed me a sketchpad. “You used to enjoy drawing,” he said, like he was doing me a kindness. “I thought you might want something... familiar.” He rasped as he handed me the sketchpad. I almost laughed. Instead, I said, “Thank you.”Trying to suppress the joy in my heart. My plans are progressing. He smiled, p
***************************** POV: Mack********************** --- I stared at the screen again. A static-smeared frame. A timecode flashing 13:22.I stared at the footage from the day Claire disappeared.I dreaded watching the footage but I had to see her face_her fierce smearing innocent eyes, her relaxed but tensed body_as if she foresaw this day. She had walked into frame, her head turned slightly to the right, distracted by something out of sight—and then she was gone. No struggle. No scream. It's just a blank span of footage where she should’ve been. The corruption was too precise. Too intentional.Too perfect.Something Liam would do with his smart-ass forsaking brain. “She was ghosted,” the CIA tech muttered beside me, his jaw tight with restrained frustration. He paced around the room as if he could figure out how she had just disappeared from the room. “Some kind of directional jammer—we’re still working on reconstructing.” He added, his eyes still glued to the scre