The door clanged shut with the finality of a guillotine.
I stayed slumped over the table longer than necessary, listening to the faint buzz of the light and the low murmur of boots outside the steel door. My cheek rested against cool metal, one eye watching the red pulse under my collar—Anthony's signal, faint as a whisper, but there.
Good. He was here.
Now came the waiting. But I wasn't going to waste it.
Connor wanted me as a tool. To destroy and burn the Masked Syndicate to ash from within. On the surface, it made sense. If you couldn't kill your enemy, convert them. Especially if that enemy had the same resources, same intelligence and the potential of being three moves ahead.
If I were him, I'd do the same.
But that wasn't the part bothering me.
What truly gnawed at me—like rust at the edge of steel—was how they knew. Not just that I existed, but who I was. The identities. The history. The mythos I'd crafted so carefully.
The interview couldn't have been the leak. That was too recent. Too controlled. And Anthony had eyes everywhere—he would've caught a breach that early.
So that left two possibilities.
Mark?
Unlikely. He talked a big game about "ruling the world together" and had no reason to sell me out. If anything, he seemed too passionate and determined to simply throw me under th bus.
But a traitor?
Now that was plausible. Evelyn warned me. Said people on our side know my identity. The problem was that I never met a good majority of the people on my side.
One of them could've jumped ship.
The thought simmered like acid in my gut.
Before I could follow the thread any further, a soft metallic creak drew my attention.
My gaze snapped to the vent in the corner of the room.
The screws shifted. Slowly. Deliberately. A gloved hand appeared, followed by a mess of golden curls and—
A Hawaiian shirt.
Anthony.
He slid out like a cat, knees bent, silenced pistol holstered against his thigh. His eyes scanned the room, then locked with mine.
"Took you long enough," I muttered.
"You're welcome," he said, crossing the space quickly. "You look terrible."
"Punches tend to do that. You brought back-up?"
He grinned. "You're going to love it."
In one fluid movement, he picked the lock on my cuffs. They snapped open with a soft click. I rolled my wrists, feeling the blood return.
"We found Sienna," he said, voice low. "Cell on the other side of the deck. Camille and Alexis are safe too. Never got touched."
I nodded. Relief tried to bloom, but I crushed it. Not yet. Not until we were off this ship.
We slipped out through the vent he'd come through, emerging into a forgotten maintenance corridor. The air reeked of grease and old fuel, but it was quiet. The echo of our footsteps whispered down rusted metal ribs.
When we reached the main deck, I slowed. The wind slapped against my face, cold and biting.
Connor was there.
Of course he was.
He stood near the bow, flanked by a semi-circle of armed guards. Twenty at least, their rifles rapidly raised. I counted the glints of lasers bouncing across our torsos.
He stepped forward, squinting as he recognized Anthony. His expression twisted into something bitter.
"Should've guessed," he said. "The infamous Anthony Smith. Still crawling through vents like a cockroach."
"Nice to see you too, Connor," Anthony said with a smirk. "Still ruining people's lives for fun?"
Connor chuckled. "You betrayed our division for him?"
Anthony shrugged. "I like underdogs."
Connor's face darkened. "You don't have the numbers for this."
Anthony tilted his head.
Right on cue, rotor blades roared overhead.
From the shadows of the clouds, helicopters descended. Sleek, armored, unmarked. Snipers peeked from open side hatches, their scopes trained on Connor's men. More figures emerged from the edges of the ship—tactical teams in black and gray, moving like phantoms. They surrounded the deck in seconds.
Connor didn't blink. But his jaw clenched.
I didn't know we had this kind of reach.
Then I remembered—I was a candidate for the World President.
Half the world's governments were watching me like a loaded gun. While the other half had already accepted me as their leader.
They'd made their choice. And if something happened to me, this is what they'd do. On short notice. Without hesitation.
The implications never really hit until now.
I stepped forward.
"Where's Sienna?"
Connor didn't answer right away. His eyes swept the snipers, the agents. He saw the noose tightening.
Finally, he nodded to one of his men. "Get the girl."
He turned back to me. "You'll get her. Then we go. That's the deal."
I narrowed my eyes. "What makes you think you're walking off this ship?"
Connor's expression didn't waver. "Because if I die, your leverage disappears. The people I answer to will assume you're uncooperative. That you're unwilling to be tested. That makes you a bigger threat. And if that happens…" he shrugged, "there's nothing stopping them from bombing you, your friends, your followers. A clean sweep."
The air grew cold.
Anthony stepped close. "He's bluffing."
"No," I said quietly. "He's not."
Connor gave a mock bow. "You're smarter than your pet spy."
Anthony tensed. "You're seriously considering this?"
"They don't want to destroy me," I said. "Not yet. They want to test me. See if they can use me."
"And you want to let them?"
"I want her safe," I snapped.
He held my gaze. "This is exactly what they want, boss. To make you choose. You think they'll stop at this?"
"No. They won't," I admitted. "But I'm not stopping either. This is a game now. And the only way to win…"
"…is to keep playing."
Connor smiled faintly. "That's the spirit."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Sienna.
She was bundled in a jacket too large for her, slightly bruised, pale, but walking on her own. Her eyes scanned the deck until they found me.
She broke into a run, stumbling forward.
I caught her in my arms.
For a second, nothing else existed. Not the guns. Not the government. Just her heartbeat against my chest.
"You came," she whispered.
"Always," I said.
Connor nodded once to his men.
They began to withdraw, disappearing into the shadows of the lower decks.
Anthony's eyes never left Connor. "Next time," he said, voice cold, "you won't walk away."
Connor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "There won't be a next time."
We boarded the lead helicopter. As the rotors spun and the wind roared around us, I sat with Sienna nestled against my side. Her head on my shoulder. Eyes closed.
Safe. For now.
I stared out the window.
Another faction tried to own me. Control me.
They always came.
They always thought they could use me.
And I was getting real tired of playing by their rules.
The board was tilting. But I was still here.
Still playing.
And soon, it would be my turn to flip the board.