Page 76 of Secondhand Secrets

Yes, they would die, but this evil man would leave empty handed.

When had she become so gutsy? Maybe because, regardless of whether Mark killed her, she could already feel herself detaching from everything around her. She was getting so drowsy. So lightheaded. So confused.

Mark chuckled, making it clear he’d heard what she’d said, his crisp and clean powder-blue shirt and black pants a harsh contrast to her bloodied and muddied white summer dress.

“No, honey, you’ll die. And your friend here too, of course.” Not bothering to hold a weapon, he shifted his smug stare to Sarah, his reference to her acknowledging her part in Luciano Conti’s arrest. Meanwhile, Sarah’s eyes turned wide and glossy, and new tears slid down her cheeks.

Mark’s smile grew, and he crouched closer to Chip. “You might still be useful, but only if you’re willing to play along. What do you say, Chip?”

His over-pronunciation of Chip’s name dripped with disdain, but Chip was still quick to reply, his voice a soft rumble against her back. “Their life for mine and Stonewall. Let them live. Once I know they’re safe, you’ll get everything.”

“Now, let’s make one thing clear”—though Mark’s tone grew rougher, she couldn’t completely see him, like he put his face way too close to Chip’s—“you and this god-awful town have already caused me irreparable damage. I might respect the art of negotiation, but you’re not going to get everything you want, so it’s best you come to terms with that.”

“What do you want?”

Seeming mildly appeased with Chip’s question, Mark eased back, giving her a view of his slow shaking head. “Your sister was a bonus, and I have a moral debt to pay to my cousin. I’m not letting her go. No. She dies. And since I’m here now, so does Dean Holloway. Once we comb through the town and find him, of course. Now, your girlfriend?” He scoffed. “I’ll kill her just because I can, but there might be room for you to change my mind.”

The scorn in Mark’s plans turned her muscles lax while her heart found the energy to thunder in her chest. Sarah’s survival was off the table. The Syndicate would tear Harlow apart looking for Dean. And Chip’s only hope was bartering for her life.

His hands gripped tighter, his breaths a burst of sound and movement against her, like he grappled with grief and fading hope. “You know I have the code.”

His hollow tone held less confidence than before.

“It’s not enough anymore.”

Mark’s matter-of-fact delivery rang through the air, stealing all attention, stealing all will to debate, and so a laugh broke from her, manic and irrational.

Her shoulders shook from that unabashed and deep-down sound while more tears fell, and her head lolled forward. “Chip, the question isn’t whether you can change his mind.”

More laughter. More tears. Was the damage to her body and spirit so bad she’d lost her mind too? “The question is, can you trust him?”

She grimaced at having to crane her neck to eyeball Mark, the implicit answer to her question being no.

She meant to seem stoic, as though she didn’t care what befell her and that he’d lost this sordid game already. But she lacked the physical strength to maintain the façade for too long, and her eyelids began to flutter in an uncoordinated way.

Meanwhile, Mark’s gray stare gave nothing away. Literally, nothing. As though he regarded her with little more affection than he would a common moth trapped between two competing flames, his focus switching back to Chip.

“Like I was saying, Stonewall alone isn’t enough anymore, Mr. Overton. Your program is in its early stages and not designed for the purposes I need it for. So, the girl goes, and you stay to finish the job. Do you understand?”

“No, Chip,” she whispered, her eyes set on staying closed. She shook her head against the back of his so he could feel her. “Please. No.”

But once again, Mark spoke as though she wasn’t there. “You fly back to Boston with me now, and we let her go, Chip. You get Stonewall running, and she continues to live as if we were never here. And since you’re smarter than the average programmer, you continue to work for me, only me, and maybe, you’ll do well out of this whole ordeal too.”

Chip didn’t reply right away, but she felt the oh-so-slight sag of his posture, as though he mourned the use of his hard-earned talents for nothing more than aiding the Syndicate—his future reduced to a lifetime of engineering misery for people who really didn’t deserve to succeed.

She could imagine a world without her, but not without Chip, and she couldn’t see him remaining the same under Mark’s conditions. If this bargain did secure her survival, if they found a way to stay together, Chip’s sacrifices now would leave him even more soulless than her earlier fears of what a life in Harlow would do to him.

As for her fears back when they’d been in Boston—that he’d give up too much just to be with her—they were a heavenly dream compared to what unfolded now. Now, no matter how this played out, they would never be the same. Sarah and Dean would be dead. The people of Harlow would be traumatized. And he would most certainly come to regret choosing her.

“Chip, listen to me.” Her voice was a still whisper, and she squeezed his hand in a grab for his attention, for him to feel her unspoken love, and that maybe choosing the greater good was the only real choice he had. “This is so much bigger than us. Don’t give him what he wants.”

The little world she’d clung to. Harlow. Her art. Her family. Him. She’d never had to pull her head from the clouds long enough to fully embrace reality, but something changed here in this cold savagery of armed men and crushing ultimatums. She knew what she wanted.

She, too, could make hard sacrifices. Perhaps the ultimate sacrifice.

And so she let go of his hand. A metaphorical step away since she was bound to him and lacked the freedom to leave as she wished. To give him the space to decide without her shadowing him.

Even as she fought her instinct to survive, she knew she could release that too. For the sake of a world that she wouldn’t get to enjoy.

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