Page 235 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Blood pours down his right arm, soaking the sleeve where Max tore through flesh and muscle. His face is pale from blood loss, but his eyes?—

Cold. Dead. Calculating.

Not a trace of the loyal protector I’ve known my whole life. Not a flicker of hesitation or remorse.

He moves like nothing hurts. Like the blood is someone else’s. Like he’s done this before.

His gaze sweeps the destruction—bodies, glass, smoke—and settles on me. What little strength I have left coils in uselessresistance.

“Impressive,” he says smoothly, his voice warped by the ringing in my ears. “But ultimately futile.”

I want to scream. Spit. Fight.

But my mouth won’t work. My body’s gone slack. My vision tunnels.

He crouches.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just inevitable.

The mangled flesh of his forearm drips steadily onto the floor beside my face. I want to recoil, scream, crawl away—but I can’t move. My limbs are sandbags. My lungs burn.

“Malfor sends his regards,” Harrison murmurs.

A smile plays at the edges of his mouth—sharp, cruel, personal.

Then everything goes black.

Consciousness returns in fragments—therhythmic vibration beneath me, the smell of metal and fuel, the low hum of an engine. I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel weighted. My mouth is dry, my thoughts sluggish and disjointed.

When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, I find myself in what appears to be the cargo hold of a plane or helicopter. My wrists and ankles are bound with zip ties, and a quick glance around reveals that I’m not alone. Malia, Jenna, Rebel, and Mia are similarly restrained nearby, all showing varying signs of returning consciousness. Stitch is there too, a thin line of blood trailing from her temple down her cheek.

They got to her before she could reach us.

“Welcome back,” a voice says from behind me. I twist awkwardly to see Harrison sitting on a bench along the wall, casually checking something on a tablet, his arm now bandaged. “You’re recovering faster than expected. Impressive.”

“What do you want?” My voice comes out as a rasp, my throat parched from the gas.

He sets the tablet aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Malfor is quite eager to meet you, Miss Collins. He’s particularlyinterested in your research on quantum entanglement. It has… applications beyond what you’ve considered.”

The mention of Malfor sends ice through my veins. “Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere safe,” he replies with that same infuriating calm. “You should rest. It’s a long flight.”

“My friends,” I say, looking at the others.

“They’re fine. Valuable bargaining chips, nothing more.” He stands and moves toward the front of the cargo hold. “Your teammates, though—they’re quite important to our operation.”

Before I can ask what he means, the aircraft hits turbulence, jostling us all. Malia groans nearby, her eyes fluttering open.

“Ally?” she whispers, disoriented.

“I’m here,” I assure her, trying to inch closer despite my restraints. “We’re all here.”

One by one, the others begin to stir. Jenna is the most coherent, her training apparently helping her resist the effects of the sedative. Her eyes immediately begin scanning our surroundings, assessing threats and possible escape routes.

“Everyone accounted for?” she asks.

“Sophia, Violet, and the children aren’t here,” I reply, keeping my voice low.

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