Chapter 42

42

Freya woke to whirring darkness.

Her limbs were weighted with lead, her thoughts scattered like broken glass. Flashes came to her. The glittering ballroom. The satin of her dress whispering against marble stairs. The look in Abe’s eyes as he watched her descend. Golden champagne catching the light. Korolov’s serpentine smile. A sharp sting. Then nothing.

Korolov drugged me.

Realization cut through the haze. She blinked gritty eyes, channeling every ounce of strength into her arms. They wobbled as she pushed herself upright. A moan escaped her lips, the sound lost to the rhythmic thunder surrounding her. A blanket of stars stretched above, the moon breathtakingly close.

Had she died and gone to heaven?

“Ah. You’re awake. Excellent.”

The words slithered against her bare skin. She turned her head—God, it felt heavy as iron—her neck creaking like rusted hinges.

Korolov sat beside her, his profile carved in moonlight and shadow. This wasn’t heaven’s gates.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

This was the devil.

She wrenched her gaze away from his hungry eyes, from the assessing tilt of his head. Beyond him, clouds raced past like silver smoke. In front, the outline of a pilot’s head was a shadow against the star-strewn sky. Reality crashed through her drug-addled brain.

I’m in a helicopter.

Nowhere to run.

“Where are you taking me?” The words scraped past her lips. Her tongue was cotton wool, useless and thick in her desert-dry mouth.

“Somewhere safe.” Korolov’s voice held a false warmth. “A quiet place where you can help me with the encryption. No interruptions.” He hummed under his breath. “The sedative will leave you feeling... disconnected for a while. The half-life is roughly four hours. Why not relax? Enjoy our little moonlight tour?”

He patted her hand with moist fingers that made her skin creep.

She sagged back against the seat and tugged at the harness holding her in place. The buckle taunted her. One clip. That’s all it would take. One clip and she could open the helicopter door, throw herself into the void. Better that than let Korolov access Raptor’s research. That kind of power had no place in the world.

The last few days had changed so much of what she believed. So much about herself and about the archive she had created.

Perhaps it shouldn’t exist at all.

Perhaps it should be destroyed.

Her hands fell into her lap, too heavy to lift. Even that minor rebellion was beyond her reach. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she was helpless to wipe them away.

Korolov had been ready. He’d known she would be at the ball, known exactly when to strike. Someone had laid out this trap, helped gift-wrap her for him.

“Who?” Her question was lost in the radio chatter as the pilot initiated landing procedures. She compelled her throat to work again. “Who was it?”

She dragged her head sideways, determined to see his face.

Korolov smiled, his eyes reflecting the red glow of the cockpit instruments. If her arms worked, she’d have shattered that smile with her fist. The image of his perfect teeth caving under her knuckles offered a small comfort.

“People are more malleable than you imagine. Everyone nurses a wound, carries a burden. We’re damaged creatures, all of us, stumbling through life, seeking comfort for our imperfect hearts and to ease the pain of being alive.” Moonlight caught the cruel slant of his smile. “Except perhaps you, Freya Jonsdottir? I did my research. Found nothing but work, work, work. You were the nut I couldn’t crack. More machine than woman.”

Hot tears tracked down her cheek, both at the truth of his words and the sickening confirmation that one of her team had betrayed them all.

“Perhaps if you paid more attention to your team as human beings instead of computer programs, you might have noticed sooner.”

“I don’t—” Her voice was little more than a rasp.

“Your assistant Tinna?” His voice took on a lecturer’s tone. “Drowning in credit card debt from online shopping. That dopamine hit with every purchase, filling the void of her disappointing life.” He sucked air between his teeth. “But Einar? Oh, Einar was the prize. Gambling debts crushing him like a vise. He’d already bled his parents dry, then his brother. Nowhere left to turn. One whisper of his predicament at work, and his career would have been crushed.”

Korolov’s thumb pressed down through the air. “He wasn’t a nut to crack—he was a bug to squash.”

Einar. It was Einar.

The name burned in her mind like acid. Einar, who’d brought her coffee when she worked late. Einar had sold her to Korolov.

And everyone else? What had happened to them? She didn’t know if Abe or the rest of his team were even alive.

Oh God. Abe. The last she’d seen him, he’d been surrounded by Korolov’s men. Her lungs seized; each breath shorter than the last. Dark spots whirled at the edges of her vision. She jammed her eyes shut, nails biting into her palms until pain anchored her back from the edge of panic. She couldn’t think about Abe. If she did, it would all be over before it had even begun.

The helicopter’s pitch changed, its steady thrum dropping to a deeper growl.

“Coming in for landing, sir,” the pilot reported.

Korolov’s teeth gleamed bone-white as the cabin tilted. “Almost there, Freya. Soon you’ll give me everything I want—that is, if you care whether your friends survive the night.”

As much as she hated it, Korolov was right. She’d been going through the actions of a life, not living it.

Until Abe . Emotion welled in her throat.

She wasn’t na?ve enough to think Korolov would release her if she gave him what he wanted. That possibility of a future with Abe—morning kisses, shared jokes, the life they might have built—it had awoken something in her.

But even if the chance of a life with Abe was gone, his gift remained.

Let Korolov think he held all the cards.

She wasn’t just code and calculations anymore.

She was a woman who had learned how to love with everything she had.

And she would do whatever was necessary to protect the people she loved.

She was still in the game.

And she was playing to win.