Page 51 of Prey

“Already running.” His fingers never pause on the keyboard. “But if she’s smart?—”

“She is smart.” That much is obvious now. “So think like someone smart who needs to disappear. Where would she go?”

“Depends.” Theon adjusts his mask. “Is she trying to leave the city entirely, or just find somewhere to lay low?”

“Unknown.” I pace the length of the common area, my mind spinning. “She has no money, no ID, no contacts that we know of. But she’s survived on the streets before.”

“The underground district,” Darius suggests. “Three miles southeast. Cash economy, no questions asked. Perfect place to disappear if you know the right people.”

“Or the docks,” Lucien adds. “Cargo containers, transient population. Easy to blend in if you’re not picky about accommodations.”

“Transit hubs,” Marcus chimes in. “Bus station, train station. If she’s trying to leave the city, that’s where she’d go.”

I stop pacing. “Split up. Darius and Damon take the underground. Marcus and Lucien check transit. Dominic, you’re with me—we’ll work the docks.”

“What about me?” Raphael asks.

“Stay here with Ezra and Theon. Monitor communications, run digital surveillance. If she surfaces anywhere electronic, I want to know immediately.”

Everyone moves as one, grabbing gear, checking weapons. But Ezra stays seated, still typing. “There’s something else,” he says without looking up. “She didn’t escape from the holding cell. She escaped from your bed.”

“I know where she escaped from,” I growl.

“Then you know what that means.” His pale eyes meet mine over the laptop screen. “She got out because you let her get close enough. That’s not a security failure. That’s you.”

My blood runs cold, but not for the reason Ezra thinks.

Because he’s right. I went to bed beside her. I slept like I hadn’t slept in years. I didn’t hear her get up, didn’t hear the door open. Two weeks of conditioning her to my schedule, my body, my proximity, and the first night I dropped my guard, she was gone before I woke.

“What do you need from me?” Ezra asks.

“Find her.” The command cuts through the room. “Whatever it takes. Whoever you have to lean on. Whatever resources we have to burn. I want her back here before the week is out.”

I head for the door, Dominic falling into step beside me like a shadow. Behind us, I hear the others mobilizing, following orders, beginning the hunt. But all I can think about is the empty space in my bed, the scent of her still clinging to my sheets.

She’d felt so perfect in my arms. So right. Like she belonged there.

Like she was mine.

The sick thing is, part of me is impressed. She’d read me perfectly, exploited every weakness, turned the one impulse I’ve never had for anyone else into the exact thing that let her walk out the door.

But the impression she made won’t save her when I find her.

And I will find her.

I always do.

17

JENNA

Ten days.

Ten days since I escaped that warehouse in stolen clothes, ten days of keeping my head down in this underground fight circuit, ten days of telling myself that the ache in my chest is relief and not a more sinister feeling.

My knuckles sting as I unwrap the tape from my hands, flexing fingers that throb with the memory of tonight’s sparring session. The gym reeks of sweat and blood and desperation—scents I’ve learned to find comforting. At least here, violence has rules. Clear boundaries. Win or lose, but nothing in between.

“Not bad for someone who’s been out of practice.” Rico, the gym’s owner, tosses me a towel from behind the makeshift bar. He’s maybe fifty, built like a brick wall, with scar tissue over both eyes from his own fighting days. “You’ve got real potential, Kathy.”