Page 78 of Cyclone

The old me would’ve already been out there, circling wide, moving quiet through the trees, getting the drop on the bastard before he even knew he was made.

But this wasn’t Syria.

And I wasn’t alone anymore.

I was part of something now.

Someone.

I took one breath.

Then another.

And when I looked up, River was watching me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m done running.”

He gave me a grim smile. “Good. ‘Cause I think he’s about to find out what a mistake it was to come here.”

River moved with lethal calm, his eyes sweeping every window and corner like he was cataloging vulnerabilities.

I knew that look.

It was the same one I used to wear before a breach.

“You think he’s still there?” I asked, nodding toward the back.

River checked his watch. “If he’s smart, he’s already gone. But something tells me he wants to be seen. Wants you toknowhe’s watching.”

My stomach twisted. “Why?”

River looked at me. Really looked. “Because sometimes the best way to break someone isn’t to shoot them—it’s to pull every thread until they unravel themselves.”

I swallowed. Hard.

He wasn’t wrong.

Psych ops 101.

Make them paranoid. Keep them on edge. Isolate them. Then strike.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

Not the one who disappeared in the desert and came back invisible. Not the one running through a jungle, trying to get away from the people wanting me dead.

No.

Not again.

“I’m not cracking,” I said. “He doesn’t get to have that.”

River arched a brow. “Didn’t think you would. But we both know this isn’t random. He didn’t follow you for weeks just to stare at your house.”

I nodded. “He wants something.”

“Yeah,” River said darkly. “And my bet? He’s about to ask for it.”

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