Page 24 of The Wrecked One

The Collective. Sure. They’re always one step ahead. And I . . . keep failing.

I’d thought my confidence was unshakeable, but recent events proved I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. “Does the guy you kept alive for questioning know anything?”

“He hasn’t said anything yet, but we were more focused on getting Oliver to a hospital outside Thailand than getting him to spill his guts. If he knows anything?—”

“They never know anything.” Pessimism took hold of me again. “I suppose this confirms the Sorens are in bed with The Collective.” I shook my head. “And you know what they do to their own if they’re exposed. They’ll have the Sorens wiped out. This whole mission was a failure. Back to no leads.”

Sydney opened her mouth, but before she could offer the words of encouragement I knew would come from her, Mason appeared in the doorway. His eyes were red, and his body rigid. I’d known Mason most of my life, and when he’d heard what almost happened to me in that room, he’d snapped. Griffin and Carter had to physically hold him back from killing the one man they’d kept alive for questioning, even though that guy hadn’t been the one to touch me.

His voice was barely controlled as he gritted out, “We have a problem.”

“What is it?” Sydney asked, beating me to it.

Mason walked into the room and turned on the TV, switching from a soap opera to an international news station. “We expected something like this would happen, but it’s much worse than we thought,” were the last words I needed to hear from him.

Sydney sat once again, hooking her arm behind my back to brace me for the sight on the screen.

The viral video of Oliver fighting the police in the park before being stabbed was being aired, his photo next to mine displayed on the screen as well. My name was beneath my picture, and his alias was listed. I was never more grateful for Sydney’s support as my breathing became shallow and I felt lightheaded, close to passing out.

But the photo that popped up next had bile rising into my throat. The man’s face, the one who’d “offered” Oliver the option of rape or murder, was now being broadcast.

“Interpol?” I gasped. “He was an Interpol agent? And we’re being accused of murdering him and other Interpol agents?” Fully hyperventilating, Sydney urged me forward. Hands to my knees, I tried to get a handle on my breathing.

I barely heard anything the reporter was saying. Something about the Thai police having handed us over to Interpol for questioning, but we’d escaped during interrogation and were now wanted fugitives.

“We have to leave.” Mason sat on the other side of me and gently rubbed my back, but I shuddered at his touch. “Sorry, you okay?”

No. Not even a little bit. “I just don’t want any man to, um, put their hands on me.” It was a realization that hit me hard and fast. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Mason stood, tearing his hands through his hair, clearly angry all over again at what nearly happened to me.

He then collected himself, zeroing in on the problem at hand. “It’ll take time for anyone to figure out Oliver’s true identity. Gwen altered his digital footprint before the mission, and she’s one of the best.” Frustration and compassion warred in his expression and in his voice. “But you used your real name. So, even if Oliver’s not medically ready, we need to leave now. We have to get you two into hiding.”

Hide? No, how can I get my revenge in hiding?

“The Sorens are spinning this to their advantage to smoke you out.” Sydney stood, offering her hand, but I didn’t budge. “Where’s the rest of the team?” she asked Mason, still waiting for me to get a grip.

No grips of any kind to be had while The Collective was still out there, a threat to all of us.

“Preparing to leave. Carter sent me here to get you.” Mason tossed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll, uh, go tell Oliver and have him get dressed. Give me a minute.”

“How are we getting out unnoticed?” I asked him.

“Carter,” he answered with a small shrug. Enough said. Then he shot me one last concerned look and left.

Before I had a chance to stand and test out my legs, he was already back. His next two words were as heart-stopping as a shotgun blast.

“Oliver’s gone.”

7

MYA

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Mason stepped into the aisle of Carter’s private jet, blocking the path I’d been pacing since he and Sydney had brought me there. We’d yet to take off, still sitting idle in the private hangar at the airport. “Oliver left on his own. No one took him.”

“I checked the security cameras myself,” Sydney said, coming up behind me. “He left the room, then walked out the front door. He’ll be okay. Probably needed some fresh air.”

Their words sent me spiraling back to two weeks ago, remembering what Oliver had promised me. “I’m not going anywhere, Mya. I’ll never leave unless you truly want me to. Even then, jury is still out since I can be a stubborn pain in the ass.”

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