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Emery

T he door creaked open with a sound that felt deliberate.

Like they wanted me to hear it.

I stayed still.

Sitting on the edge of the cot. Shoulders relaxed. Hands folded in my lap.

Let them think I was docile.

Let them assume.

The man who stepped in was tall. Maybe late forties. Wore tactical pants and a black thermal that hugged his frame like he lived in the gym. His hair was buzzed short. Eyes pale and flat.

No name badge. No insignia.

He smiled.

But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good morning, Ms. Blake.”

“Emery,” I corrected, voice cool. “You want to play house, you might as well use my name.”

That earned me a tilt of the head.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said.

“Let me guess. You thought I’d be crying in the corner?”

He smiled again, wider this time. “That would’ve made this easier.”

“For whom?”

He stepped forward. Too close.

I didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Just looked him dead in the eye.

“You’ve made a lot of noise,” he said. “The footage from your little sprint down the hallway is already being buried. But not before it hit the wrong inbox.”

“Then you’ve got a problem,” I said. “Because if someone knows I’m gone, they’re coming.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice.

“That’s the thing, Emery. They had already looked. And your precious Olympic committee? Your sponsors? They think you ghosted. You disappear for months at a time. That’s your brand now.”

His voice dipped lower.

“You’re off the radar. Just like we like it.”

I smiled, slow and cold.

“And you still needed three men to drag me in here. Doesn’t say much about your operation.”

The smile slipped.

There it was.

Crack in the armor.

He turned without a word and walked out.

But not before I saw the twitch in his jaw.

Not before I heard the lock slide shut twice.

He was nervous.

Good.

Let him be.

Because someone out there had that video.

And someone was coming.

He just didn’t know yet—

They were bringing hell. My father had friends in high places. Once you are a Navy SEAL, you are always a Navy SEAL. Who does he think taught me how to fight? My Dad wouldn’t let me stop training until I could hold my own in a fight. He saw with his own eyes how this world was.