Page 47 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

Finn tested the zip ties binding his wrists to the weight bench, pain lancing through his shoulders.

The nylon cut into his skin, but he kept his expression neutral, refusing to give Reynolds the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

The blood on his cheek had dried into a tight line—a souvenir from the initial confrontation when Reynolds’ men had taken them by surprise.

The situation was catastrophically bad. Reynolds had Kenji kneeling on the floor, a Vanguard operative’s gun pressed against the base of his skull.

Kenji’s eyes held steady determination despite the clear danger.

The Vanguard operatives had secured the building.

And Reynolds’ monologue about patriotic duty and necessary sacrifice made it clear what came next—force Finn and Zara to activate the Solomon Key, then eliminate them all.

Just like he’d sent Zara’s team into that deathtrap at the abandoned mine.

We’re going down in flames, Finn thought, panic rising like bile in his throat. I’m not enough to stop this. I’m nothing.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. The words of Psalm 18:2 steadied him, as they had countless times in dark places around the world.

Zara was looking at him. Just a flicker of movement, so subtle Reynolds wouldn’t notice. But Finn’s photographic memory instantly captured what she wanted him to see—a small metallic object between her fingers.

His pulse quickened. She needed a distraction. Something to keep Reynolds and his men focused entirely on him while she worked on her restraints.

“You know what I don’t understand, Reynolds?” Finn said, his voice deliberately sharp enough to draw attention. “How a man who spent thirty years serving his country ended up betraying everything it stands for.”

Reynolds turned, eyes narrowing. “Careful, Novak. Your position isn’t exactly secure.” He gestured toward Kenji. “Neither is his.”

Finn needed Reynolds angry. Angry people made mistakes. He searched his perfect memory for something that would cut deep.

“I remember that Christmas party at Langley in 2016,” Finn said, his tone deliberately casual.

“December 18th, 7:42 p.m. You were wearing a navy suit with a red pocket square—silk, with tiny white dots. Armani, I think. That night you had exactly three whiskeys—Macallan 18, neat. The third glass had a hairline crack running from the rim to the base, about seven millimeters long.”

Reynolds’ expression shifted subtly. “What’s your point?”

“You tried to convince Director Matthews to leave with you. She was wearing an emerald dress, three-inch black heels, pearl earrings—her grandmother’s, I heard her tell someone.

You leaned in, whispered something about ‘continuing the discussion privately.’ She turned you down in front of seventeen senior staff members from counterterrorism.

Her exact words were ‘I prefer professionals with actual ethics, Harrison—and better cologne.’”

Finn watched Reynolds’ neck turn red, a vein throbbing visibly beneath his crisp collar. Perfect. He was getting to him.

“The entire room laughed—Wyatt Johnson spilled his champagne on Leslie Frost’s new shoes.

You knocked over a tray of canapés when you stormed out.

Twelve smoked salmon, eight deviled eggs, and fourteen mushroom tarts.

Wasted. Except the bit stuck in your teeth.

” Finn shook his head in mock regret. “Photographic memory. Even the smallest details stick forever.”

Reynolds’ jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good, Novak.” His voice had dropped dangerously low as he crouched to eye level. “Though that remarkable memory won’t save you now.”

From his peripheral vision, Finn could see Zara’s fingers working methodically, sawing at the plastic ties around her wrists. Just a little longer. He needed to keep Reynolds talking, keep him seething. But not get shot doing it.

“Was it worth it?” Finn pressed, forcing indignation into his voice. “Selling out your country? Your colleagues? Zara?”

Reynolds’ expression hardened. “You don’t understand patriotism, Novak. Real sacrifice requires difficult choices.”

“Like murdering innocent people?”

“Collateral damage in service of a greater purpose.”

“You keep telling yourself that, dude. Guys like you always have an excuse. Always some ‘greater purpose’ to justify becoming exactly what you once fought against.”

One of the Vanguard operatives shifted position, his attention now fully on the escalating confrontation. Even the man guarding Kenji had turned slightly, weapon still trained but focus divided. Finn caught the subtle, almost imperceptible nod from Zara. She needed more time.

“You’re a hypocrite, Reynolds,” Finn continued, injecting contempt into his voice. “Wrapping treason in the flag while you auction off American intelligence to the highest bidder.”

Reynolds leaned closer, exactly where Finn wanted him. “The Sentinel Network was created by bureaucrats who don’t understand the real world. Men who’ve never had blood on their hands making decisions that should belong to those of us who’ve sacrificed everything.”

“And that justifies betraying Zara? Someone who trusted you, someone you mentored?”

“Zara was always my best student,” Reynolds said, glancing briefly toward her. “Which made her the perfect instrument. I knew exactly how she’d react at each stage—her analytical process, her emotional triggers, her unwavering loyalty.”

Zara remained perfectly still, eyes downcast in apparent defeat.

Her stillness told him she’d succeeded in freeing herself, though she maintained the illusion of captivity.

Across the room, Kenji’s eyes met Finn’s for a split second—a silent communication that he was ready to move when the time came.

“You miscalculated,” Finn said, keeping Reynolds’ focus. “You thought she’d never see through your manipulation.”

“And yet, here we are,” Reynolds gestured expansively. “My operation succeeds, while Knight Tactical walks into their destruction. I’d call that effective planning.”

Zara nodded. She was free.

“I call it evil,” Finn said.

He shifted his weight on the bench, preparing for what came next. His heart hammered against his ribs, but his mind was crystal clear. He trusted Zara completely, their unspoken coordination more perfect than any practiced routine.

Finn held the man’s gaze. “There’s one thing you forgot. No. There are probably a lot of things. But one important one.”

Reynolds raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Finn allowed himself the slightest smile. “Zara Khoury never gives up.”