Paul’s POV
Zara and Becky were sealed in the darkness on the other side as the metallic clang of the cell door closing echoed in my ears. With my hands closed at my sides, I stood useless. Though here we were — trapped, outnumbered, and at Joan's mercy — we had come so close to calling off this dream.
Joan's mocking smile tormented me; her treatment of us as though we were mere objects on her warped chessboard made sense. She had scheduled every action, every counteroffensive. And now, my mind whirled looking for a way out as I walked through the tiny, dank holding room.
From behind me, a familiar voice snipped, "You look like you've lost something, Paul." I turned sharply, my heart sinking to see Jackson lounging carelessly against the wall. Of all the people Joan could have sent to ha
