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My limbs locked up as I stared at the screen. Well, this was just great. A million and one questions ran through my mind, but the most important one was this: How had they found me?

I’d always hated phone calls. Why call when texting was literally right there ? But this was going to create all kinds of trauma around telemarketers and other unknown numbers, I just knew it.

I was frozen with indecision, even as the phone kept buzzing. Should I tell the CIA about the phone or answer the call here, outside, where no one would know?

The phone stopped ringing. I’d deliberated too long.

That was even worse. I’d had two options before me and picked door number three—let it blow up in my face.

Typical Andee.

It started to ring again, and this time I didn’t hesitate.

“Who is this?” My voice was shaky, but I was giving myself kudos simply for keeping my breakfast down. I was coming to find greasy pizza didn’t exactly mix with the threat of impending death. Who knew?

I was careful to hide the phone in my long hair in case any CIA agents watched my back from the window or came outside, using my hand as a buffer like I was resting on it. I wasn’t sure what I was hiding yet, but something told me this was the only way to keep Chan safe. He’d said he’d be watching, but I didn’t think he could see anything from this angle.

I blinked rapidly to keep from crying. I’d been so close. So, so close to getting everything I wanted.

“It’s not nice to leave without saying goodbye.”

Holt.

If a voice could cause a sensation, this was like nails on a chalkboard. It was difficult to breathe, but somehow I sucked in enough air to answer my father.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Well, it’s not nice to kidnap your daughter either, but I guess our family isn’t going to be up for an award anytime soon.”

Rather than making him pause, my response only made him laugh. It was a deep-throated chuckle that spoke to him being perfectly at ease.

“When you left,” he said, “you took something that belonged to me.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I never belonged to you, and I’m not coming back.”

“That’s up for discussion.” His voice had an edge to it that was instantly familiar, and my grip on the railing turned white.

“But, no,” he continued. “I’m talking about the liquid vials you stole from the lab. The liquid form of the kill pill and its antidote. You’re going to bring both of them back to me, and you’re going to do it before the CIA has a chance to analyze any of the vials’ contents. You’ll do so without alerting anyone on the CIA team of your intentions, and you’ll do it alone.”

I’d be walking into a death trap.

“Why would I do that?” My stomach was in my throat, and I was all too aware that at any moment, Chan would insist that I come inside. It didn’t matter that they’d secured the area. Old habits died hard. He’d come to check on me, regardless of whether he could see me from the window.

“Because.” Holt paused like he wanted to make sure I was paying attention. Wasted effort. I was already hanging on every word he said, like someone needing a kidney transplant waiting to hear whether they were receiving a life-saving organ.

Despite me preparing for the worst, Holt’s next words hit me hard.

“I have your mother.”

My chest tightened to the point of physical pain. Sucking in panicked breaths, I clung to the railing like a lifeline and fought back the waves of black dots that were closing in on my vision. I almost sank to the floor before remembering that the CIA was watching from the window. If I disappeared from view, they’d come out with guns blazing.

But Holt had my mom. All this time, I’d thought the CIA was protecting her. That sure, maybe Holt had kidnapped me, but at least my mom was safe because the CIA had a detail on her, or they’d whisked her away to Timbuktu, or hey, maybe they’d given her that plastic surgery she’d always wanted and now she was walking around with a whole new face and Holt would never recognize her even if she were standing right in front of him.

But no. They’d been searching Europe for me, leaving my mom exposed. Like everything else, this was my fault.

My chin wobbled, and I focused on breathing through my nose. When I could trust my voice again, I infused it with as much venom as I could portray through a phone line.

“You’d better not touch her.”

“Oh, please. I have no interest in your mother. As long as you bring me the vials, she’s free to go, no questions asked.”

I paused. Something about this didn’t feel right. If he really had my mom, would he be so quick to let her go? Holt wasn’t one to release his bargaining chips so easily.

I adjusted my grip on the phone, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the door to the house was still firmly shut.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t think you really have my mom.”

Holt sighed into the receiver and I heard shuffling on the other end. Then my mom’s voice was on the line. “Andee, sweetie. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to ever be involved in any of this.”

My eyes burned, and despite my best intentions, a single tear escaped. I swiped it away with shaky fingers, trying to come to grips with this new reality now in front of me. How could she be apologizing?

“None of this is your fault.” I clutched the phone. “If I’d followed your instructions—if I’d stayed off the grid like you’d told me to, then none of this would have happened. I was the one who did the paternity test—”

“No, Andee. That doesn’t matter. Now listen to me. This is important. I don’t care what he’s asking, but don’t do it—”

I heard a muffled thud, my mom cried out, and my stomach swooped like I was going to empty out all of its contents then and there. I made a conscious effort to relax my shoulders so anyone watching my back through the window wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

Holt’s voice came back on the line. “Now, now. We wouldn’t want anything worse to happen to her, would we? If you return the vials to me, alone, I promise your mother will live to see another day. You have twenty-four hours.”

“Your scare tactics won’t work on me anymore.” I tried to fake some bravado, but given the current circumstances, there wasn’t a lot to pull from. “I have a whole team of CIA operatives here—”

“And I will know if you say one word to them,” Holt interrupted. “I’ll kill your mother the second you do. That phone in your hand? The microphone is recording everything you say. I’ll be listening, Andee, and I’ll know if you tip off the agents. Destroy the phone or turn it off, and your mother won’t last a minute.”

My mind whirred. So he could hear me. But Chan could sign.

Holt seemed to know what I was thinking. “Before you try any of your cute little hand signals, you should know there’s also GPS on your phone.”

I scrunched my eyebrows, struggling to keep up with his logic.

Holt continued, gloating over his own brilliance. “I know exactly where you are. There’s a trained sniper across from your safe house at this very moment.”

I sucked in a breath but didn’t bother looking up. Holt could be lying—in which case, there’d be nothing to see. Or he was telling the truth—in which case, the guy would be a professional, and there’d still be nothing to see. Either way, it didn’t change my answer.

“You think I care about my own life if it means I could help someone I care about?”

“No.” Holt’s answering laugh was cold and short. “Which is why I think you’ll do it for Chan.”

I froze, and this time, I did scan the rooftops across from me. I couldn’t help it.

Holt sniffed. “My sniper won’t target you, Andee. He’ll target Chan. There’s a very conveniently placed window at the front of the house you’re staying in. You’ll ensure the blinds stay open so he can see you at all times. If you sign anything, or write one word on a piece of paper, he’ll kill your boyfriend the second he comes into view.”

I swallowed. Holt continued like this was all par for the course. “Yes, I’ve seen you sign when you thought no one could see. From the corner of the bathroom when you weren’t quite out of sight from the mirror. I might not know what you’re saying, but in this case, I don’t need to. You’d better make sure none of your hand movements look suspicious.”

First my mom, and now Chan. Holt had managed to turn this situation around even when he had everything going against him. Now I was the one backed into a corner, and everyone I cared about was at risk.

The railing spanned the entire length of the patio, except where the steps cut across the center. A metal flowerpot sat on the edge of the railing where it stopped, the plant inside it long dead. I stared at that plant by my side, the leaves withered and brittle from months, if not years, of neglect. Its life was a memory. There was no bringing it back. That plant was me—I might as well accept it.

My hand shook against the railing. “How do I get away from the CIA? I’m guessing you have an inside man here who will help me escape? The one who gave me the phone?”

Holt actually had the audacity to laugh. My life was falling apart, but my father laughed. World’s greatest dad, right here. “No. You’ll figure it out on your own. My man slipped you the phone back at the hotel. Remember? You bumped into him. Who needs someone inside the CIA when the GPS in the phone led my sniper right to you?”

I cast my memory back. The hotel where Chan returned that bachelor boy’s cell phone. It was crowded. I could have bumped into someone without realizing it, and they could have put a phone in my pocket then.

“How am I supposed to find you?” I asked.

“I’m still in the catacombs. Your precious agents smoked me out and made me move all my equipment while they did their sweep. But now they think I’ve moved on, and this is the last place they’ll look.” He proceeded to give me an address, and I repeated it twenty times in my mind, praying I wouldn’t forget before I had a chance to enter its coordinates into the navigation app on this phone.

“Don’t be late,” Holt said, “and don’t try to alert your team to my whereabouts. First I’ll kill Chan. Then I’ll kill your mother.”

Holt hung up, and I brought the phone down from my ear. It was useless to me now. I couldn’t call Holt back. The number had been blocked. It served only as a microphone Holt could use to listen in on everything the CIA had to say. If anything, the longer I stayed, the more ammunition I gave him.

I shoved it back into my pocket before Chan could open the door and ask me what I’d been up to. I didn’t want to answer any questions. I couldn’t stay out here forever. There was, quite literally, a time limit on my mom’s life, and I needed to find some way to save her. Some way that didn’t involve tipping off the CIA, or Chan would become another target for Holt to use against me.

I pushed back from the balcony with shaky legs like I was a baby fawn. The other agents barely glanced up at me when I walked through the door, but Chan’s eyes caught my gaze and held it.

There was so much I wanted to tell him.

I don’t want to hurt you.

If I could think of any other way, I’d take it.

I’m doing this to save you.

I didn’t say any of those things.

It’d break his heart when I left. But it was better to take his heart than to take his life.

···

I had a plan.

Luckily this safe house wasn’t equipped with a security system, which was why Agent Mendez said he wanted to move first thing in the morning. This had been the easiest location to give coordinates to via latitude and longitude, but I knew I had to leave before there were added security measures to deal with at location B. It was all a moot point anyway. Holt had given me only twenty-four hours.

It was now night. Chan had replaced the batteries in his hearing aids with new ones Agent Mendez brought with him. We’d eaten a meager dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and gone over the logistics of how we’d get from point A to point B. I’d stayed in the living room while they’d figured out the details in the kitchen, hoping Holt might not hear them planning if I was far enough away. I stayed in front of the window like a good little girl. Still, I knew the truth. Their cover was compromised. I needed to get away soon—for everyone’s sake.

I also did something unthinkable. Unforgivable.

I’d taken the vials while they were all busy planning in the kitchen. The vials and the spare set of keys to one of the agency’s cars. They thought the threat came from outside. They didn’t know I’d truly turned into Holt’s daughter.

“Owen.” Agent Mendez strode into the living room, talking over his shoulder. “You’ll take first watch outside. Andee, can you close the blinds for the night?”

I looked out the window, toward the faceless sniper I knew was out there, ready to shoot if I started to do what Agent Mendez asked. It was now or never.

“Can I go on watch too?” I asked, standing slowly, but not moving toward the window.

It was Chan who answered. “You want to stand outside in the cold when you could be sleeping?” He came into the living room, stepping around the cots that had been set up on the floor. Agent Mendez hadn’t been happy with the sleeping arrangements—another reason he wanted to move to a bigger safe house—but Chan looked so tired he probably could have slept standing up.

I shrugged, angling my body in front of the desk where the vials had been only a few minutes before. Agent Mendez had put them in a drawer, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the type to check again before going to sleep. They clanked softly in my pocket as I moved. I coughed to cover the sound.

Chan searched my face. What’s wrong? he signed.

I could picture the sight of the sniper’s gun trained on Chan’s chest, ready to take him out if I made the slightest motion of my fingers. I couldn’t sign back.

“Nothing,” I said. My throat was dry, but I resisted the urge to swallow. “I just don’t feel like sleeping in another cage. Not when I’m wide awake enough to think about the walls closing in.”

His eyes softened around the corners, and I bit my lip. Hopefully my explanation stopped him from asking why I was okay with sleeping in the motel yesterday but not tonight. Maybe PTSD didn’t work like that, but either way, Chan didn’t question it.

When this is over , he signed, we’ll go camping under the stars .

I couldn’t do anything that might signal to the sniper that I was communicating with Chan. I couldn’t say yes and risk his life. So I shoved my hands into my pockets and smiled.

I waited for the bullet to hit Chan. It felt like it had already hit my heart.

Nothing happened, and I let myself hope that I might get away with this. But then Chan turned his head from me and spoke out loud to Agent Mendez.

“I’ll take the first watch then,” he said.

No. It was bad enough I’d have to incapacitate the person standing guard. I couldn’t let that person be Chan.

“I can’t sleep,” I said. Too quickly. I forced myself to slow down. “But, Chan, you need your rest. You’ve been doing too much.” I looked at his commanding officer. Agent Mendez glanced between Chan and me.

“My order stands,” he finally said after deliberating for a minute. “Chan, I need you back in top condition as soon as possible. For that, you need sleep.” He turned to me. “Andee, if you want to keep Owen company, you can, but only for an hour. You need your sleep too.”

It was strange, being bossed around by this man I hardly knew. But I had what I needed, so I didn’t fight the curfew. It wasn’t like I planned on keeping it.

Before anyone could change their minds, I walked outside. I shot Chan a wan smile, but didn’t say anything else. I knew I’d give everything away if I did. Already my emotions were strung so tight it was like I’d left a face mask on too long and everything was cracked.

Owen joined me on the patio a minute later and closed the door behind him. The sounds of everyone else preparing for bed followed soon after, muted through the door. I stood by the dead potted plant with its shriveled leaves and did my best not to think about how it mocked my future—or lack thereof. Owen stationed himself in the center of the steps, away from the window, hands behind his back. We didn’t say anything as we stared out at the quiet neighborhood.

The lights went off inside and the blinds closed. I was officially cut off from Chan. I felt it, like an invisible knife stroke that severed the bond we shared. There was no turning back now. I was making a decision that would forever keep him out of reach.

I scanned the rooftops for any sign of the sniper. Of course I didn’t see anything. It would be just like Holt to lie. But I couldn’t chance my mom’s life, or Chan’s, on the possibility.

Eventually, I couldn’t hear anything from inside. Still, I waited. I had to make sure everyone was asleep. Owen was a statue at my side, a monumental obstacle to my escape. I was so used to his silence, it startled me when he spoke.

“It’s time for me to check the perimeter. Stay here.”

He took two steps off the porch. His foot touched the grass. I grabbed the metal flower pot and was a step behind. It was heavier than I expected, but I swung it with everything I had at the back of his head.

Owen crumpled. The only sound was the rush of blood pounding in my ears as I knelt next to him to make sure he was still breathing.

Then I ran.

The farther I got down the driveway, the more my thoughts returned to Chan. Would he ever forgive me? I already knew he wouldn’t find me. Holt had said they’d checked the tunnels, so they wouldn’t think to return there. And really, who knew how long we’d stay anyway? Holt had other labs. Once I returned and he was no longer holding my mother hostage, he’d probably take me to some other location, never to be heard from again. The CIA hadn’t even known we were in France until Chan had contacted his team. I was truly saying goodbye to ever seeing anyone I loved ever again. I was saying goodbye to any possible future with Chan. All so Holt wouldn’t kill my mom. All so she could hopefully live a normal life in exchange for mine.

A tear slid down my cheek as I unlocked the car and got behind the steering wheel. I angrily brushed it aside. Then I drove away, refusing to look back.