The black SUV tore through the dark streets of Paris, its tires screaming against the wet pavement. Liam’s grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled, his jaw set tight. Mia sat in the passenger seat, her breath shallow, heart hammering in her chest.
“Status,” Liam barked into his earpiece.
“President is secure,” a voice crackled back. “We’ve got him at the safe house.”
Mia’s gaze remained fixed on the rear window. The alley where Dain had stood was already a distant blur of darkness and flashing red lights.
He stayed behind.
She bit her lip, trying to steady her breath. “We have to go back.”
“No,” Liam’s voice was sharp. “He made his choice.”
“Liam—”
“He knew the risk,” Liam cut her off. “And if Viktor has him now, going back is suicide.”
Mia’s jaw tightened. “He saved us.”
“
