Page 19 of Oliver

“Emery?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

She walked slowly toward the far end of the pool, near a storage closet where she’d said she left her bag that day.

She stared at the floor, blinking fast.

Then her breath caught.

And she whispered, “There was a phone.”

I moved closer. “What kind of phone?”

“I don’t know—it was just… there. In the coach’s office. On the desk. But it wasn’t his. He always used an iPad. This one was black. Old. Like your burner phone and old. I only noticed because the light was blinking. Like it had a message or something.”

Her hand went to her mouth.

“I looked at it.”

I froze. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “It was a video. I touched it and it opened by accident. Just a few seconds. Someone in a uniform—military maybe—handing a package to a man I didn’trecognize. I shut it fast, thought it was one of the coaches watching weird footage.”

She looked at me, eyes wide. “But that wasn’t it, was it?”

I didn’t answer.

Because we both knew.

She hadn’t been kidnapped for money.

She’d seen something—maybe a weapons exchange, or intel being passed—and whoever was involved wasn’t ready for it to come to light.

Her voice dropped. “I didn’t tell anyone. But someone knew I saw it.”

“Which means,” I said, heart thudding, “someone close to you might’ve been involved.”

I didn’t see anyone around. I hurriedly left his office and went to the locker room. Someone was watching me. It had to be on one of the cameras. This is really bad. The Russians think I know something I shouldn’t.

10

Emery

Icouldn’t stop shaking.

The moment we left the gym, the air around me changed. Like something I couldn’t see had followed us out—clinging to my skin, whispering threats in a language I couldn’t hear but couldfeel.

Oliver hadn’t said much during the ride back. Just kept his hand near mine. Watching every car. Every shadow. Every breath.

Back at the safe house, I sat on the bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Same face. Same freckles. The same swimmer’s shoulders and tight jawline I saw before every race.

But nothing felt the same.

Someone close to me knew. Someone close to me wanted me kidnapped or dead. It had to be the coach at the training center. It had to be him. He must be in on everything. I will ruin him and that fake training camp.

I’m sure my teammates weren’t involved. Plus, there were only two other swimmers there. But they weren’t… killers. None of them knew where I was.

Or did they?

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