Page 4 of Jason Bourne
It was a boy. Couldn’t have been older than fifteen, carrying a tray. He kept his eyes down, his small shoulders shaking.
He set the tray on the metal floor by my feet, careful not to touch me. Rice. A bottle of water. Something that might’ve once been chicken.
I swallowed hard. “Hey. What’s your name?”
He flinched. Didn’t answer.
“Hey, kid. Look at me.”
Slowly, his eyes met mine. Brown. Terrified.
“Please. Help me. I need to get out. My sister — she’s dying.”
He shook his head violently. “No. No speak. Boss kill me.”
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
His eyes darted to the security camera in the corner. He shoved the tray closer with a shaking hand, then fled like the devil himself was after him.
I stared at the food. My stomach cramped with hunger, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Not until I knew Zoe was alive.Not until I knew Jason was out there — because I knew him. He’d move heaven and hell to get to me.
I’d just have to survive long enough to let him find me.
5
Jason
Amile off the coast, the ocean swallowed the roar of the engines. We drifted silent and dark, a shadow among shadows under the moonless sky.
Max cut the motor, letting the zodiac bounce on the swells. Salt spray slapped my face — sharp, bracing, exactly what I needed to keep my head clear and my rage buried.
Beside me, Forest adjusted his silencer. Nate checked his dive mask, then glanced at me. “Last chance to change your mind,doctor.”
I ignored the jab. “No casualties unless they pull on us first. We get Lane and Zoe. We ghost out. Understood?”
Nate smirked. “Loud and clear, Mom.”
I flipped him off, then dropped my mask into place. My earpiece crackled to life with Max’s calm voice.“Thermals show six hostiles topside, four more below deck. Cargo hold’s our best bet for captives.”
I breathed once. Twice. The taste of the ocean settled my pulse. I am after all a Navy SEAL.
Hang on, Lane. Just a few more minutes.
I slid over the side, the black water swallowing me whole. My brothers followed, gliding silent as sharks.
We kicked under the hull — fifty yards of rusted steel looming above, barnacles brushing our suits. I signaled:Up.
One by one, we surfaced beneath the starboard loading crane. I heard muffled voices overhead, boots pacing metal grates. Nate drew his blade, winked through his mask.
We climbed. Quiet. Quick. One grunt leaning over the rail to light a cigarette never saw Nate’s hand clamp over his mouth before the blade did its work. Body down. No sound but the ocean.
Forest pointed aft — the cargo hatch. Max, topside, kept his rifle aimed steady, covering our approach.
We crouched by the hatch. I felt the vibration under my palm — the hum of a generator, the faint thud of distant footsteps. Somewhere below that steel trapdoor were Lane and Zoe. Bleeding. Cuffed. Maybe worse.
I shoved the rage down where it couldn’t make me sloppy.
Forest whispered, “Tripwire?”
