Tessa stepped into the cavernous halls of Kaltrain’s headquarters, her stomach a knotted mess. Jessica’s hand was on her elbow, her grip tight, even though she’d zip-tied Tessa’s wrists.

They’d agreed to a compromise, but Jessie was flat-out sure their plan was going to fail.

“I hate this,”

she murmured.

Tessa reined in the scream that kept clogging her throat. “I hate that you betrayed all of us and nearly ruined your brother emotionally.”

“I told you why,”

Jessie ground out.

“While protecting your brother at all costs may be a valid reason for doing the unthinkable in certain situations, your reasoning in this case is irrational.

The result of your actions put him in more danger than coming clean would have. And that’s why we’re here—his well-being is now my responsibility because you’re no longer competent to handle it.”

Jessie grunted. “I hate you right now,”

she snarled.

“Get over yourself. And by the way, Tommy’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Your death nearly killed him, too. You’re lucky he’s forgiven you.”

“Oh, and you know him so well. I’m his big sister. I’ve been taking care of him my whole life.”

She had to play this right. Every move, every word, every gesture would be scrutinized and dissected by those behind the cameras. “He’s not a kid anymore, and neither are you,”

she said under her breath. “You’re playing an exceedingly dangerous game, and no matter the outcome, Tommy’s the one who will pay the price.”

“No.”

Jessie shook her head. “This is all on me.”

Wishful thinking.

The overhead canned lights cast a sterile, surgical glow over the polished concrete floors. They bypassed a receptionist, who gave Jessie a nervous glance. “Mr. Renard is not to be disturbed.”

“He’ll want to be disturbed for this,”

Jessie snapped.

The woman snatched up her phone and punched a button.

At the elevators, Jessie whispered, “Remember, there’s a guard outside the entrance to Harris’ penthouse suite and one just inside the receiving area where he conducts business. He’ll be in his inner suite, where no one is allowed. Cherie back there is alerting him to the fact I’ve returned and brought company. We might make it past the guard stationed at the outer door of the penthouse, but no farther than that.”

The security cameras were invisible, but Tessa could feel watchful eyes on them. If her stepfather were as conniving as he appeared, his team would already have her identity. Making it past his security would be easy—he’d be anxious to talk to her. “Relax. I can handle him.”

“He’s a snake with wicked venom. Relaxing lands you six feet under.”

Point taken. The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. Inside, the two of them said nothing, and Tessa kept her expression cold and remote. Jessie didn’t remove her grip, her nails digging into Tessa’s skin through her jacket.

She was understandably nervous. They both were. But Tessa locked down her fear and anger—emotions would only impede her end goal.

As predicted, the first guard at the penthouse door didn’t pull a weapon or insist they leave. He nodded at Jessie and patted Tessa down for weapons before he opened the door. Jessie strode inside, tugging Tessa by her bound wrists with her, right past the interior guard, who had to weigh close to three hundred pounds and looked down on them with disdain.

Tessa wasn’t sure how to react when she saw her stepfather. She expected Harris to be seated at an impressive desk, cocky and impertinent, sure that she would obey his commands.

While his massive black desk drew the eye to the center of the room, he stood in front of a set of floor-to-ceiling windows behind it. Feet braced, a drink in one hand, he stared out the impressive windows at the street below with an air of palpable self-importance.

His profile showed he had aged considerably, with deep lines bracketing his lips and eyes. His hair was white. The side of his mouth quirked in a smile—the only acknowledgment of their entrance. “Where have you been?”

Tessa wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or Jessie. Jessie answered. “Hunting her down.”

Her voice was devoid of anything but resentment and pique. “Where did you think I was? You said you wanted her, so I brought her to you.”

He swirled the liquid in his glass, took a sip, and heaved an aggrieved sigh. “Unnecessary. She would have come on her own, wouldn’t you, my little fox?”

His voice…the stuff of nightmares. Tessa locked her knees and remained impassive even though her body trembled.

Keeping one hand on his hip, he strolled to his desk. The bold modern lines matched him with their commanding presence. He didn’t so much as glance at her, setting down the glass and sliding some files aside before he sat, leaning back and steepling his fingers in front of him.

His gaze tracked up her pants, jacket, and tied wrists as if he were sizing her up inch by inch. She gritted her teeth. When his focus landed on her face, he continued to take her in one piece at a time—her chin, her mouth, cheekbones, and nose. Her left ear, then her right. Her hair. When his eyes finally met hers, the lines around his mouth deepened as he gave an exaggerated frown. “You look just like your mother.”

Pure scorn in those words. His body was tense, even though he tried to hide it. That condescending frown…

She remembered it—the one that said he wanted to hit something. Someone. Her own body cramped in an instinctive response. Her stomach roiled.

Clamp it down. She would not become that cowering child again. The one who couldn’t help her mother, even though she tried. The girl who had attacked him on more than one occasion when he was beating her mom, only to end up bruised and broken alongside her.

The grown, take-no-shit woman she was now flooded her system. She almost wanted to egg him on. To challenge him and see if he would come across that desk after her. She wasn’t a weak little girl anymore. She knew moves that could bring him to his knees.

Jessie nudged her forward.

Even with her resolve, she stumbled as she ended up closer to him. Only a few feet separated them. His cologne and the smell of his liquor penetrated her nose.

Suddenly, she wanted to do more than bring him to his knees—she wanted revenge for her mom. “You look just like the bastard I remember,”

she said with false calm. “Only older and uglier.”

He came up out of his chair, and she braced, ready for the punch she knew was coming. He gripped his glass instead, shooting down the last of the liquid and slamming it back down.

She didn’t wait for his next move, taking charge of the interaction. “Instead of trading insults, let’s get to it. I’m ready to offer you a deal.”

She left the carrot dangling, proud that her voice was steady.

He hid his surprise well, but she saw a flash in his eyes before he forced himself to relax and smirked. “You’re offering me a deal?”

“I know what you’re planning, and I want to offer my expertise,”

she said simply. “You’ll also get my silence.”

There were always two sides to any deal. “In exchange for?”

“Jessie’s freedom.”

“What?”

Jessie stepped up beside Tessa, giving her a shocked expression before turning it on Harris. “That’s not why I brought her here. I did it for you.”

He made a dismissive gesture, and Jessie, being the good little pawn, stepped back again. He focused on Tessa. “You’re not walking out of here, Contessa. I’ve already got your silence, and I can force you to do whatever I want. Letting Jessie go would be stupid. Because of your friendship, she offers the perfect leverage to keep you in line. No deal.”

So cocky.

She saw the mental calculations churning in his mind. Good. Let him think he had the upper hand. “You may be a bastard, but I thought you’d at least make a deal in good faith with me since I allowed her to bring me in.”

Jessie harrumphed. “Allowed? I abducted you right out from under Tommy’s nose. Give me some credit.”

“You were always a decent student, Jess, but not my equal by any means. I’m here because I want to be, not because you forced me.”

Jessie’s eyes widened artfully. Harris chuckled.

Tessa leaned forward as if Harris were her equal and she wanted to share a secret with him. “You’ve built something remarkable, and I’m no fan of the CIA or the Black Swans. I’m sure you know that. But even the best plans have weaknesses. Blind spots. I’m offering to help you eliminate yours.”

“You want more than Ms. Medoza’s freedom,”

he said, catching on.

“I know an opportunity when I see one.”

He resumed his seat, rocking back and forth with his fingers steepled again. Those intrusive eyes bored into her. “What weaknesses do you think I have, little fox?”

I, he’d said, not we. Not my plan. He was taking it personally. Another plus for her. “Pursuing revenge creates a narrow focus. Your inner demons get the best of you. You get sloppy, predictable. Patterns emerge. Just like when you used to beat up Mom—you followed your right hook with a left uppercut.”

She tapped a finger on the desk. “Every. Time.”

His face blanched. He rocked a bit more aggressively. “You think you know me, Contessa?”

She did. Too well. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Nothing escapes my notice. While you laid breadcrumbs to put the Agency in fear of an EMP attack on military bases, you’ve been working on far more while they’re distracted with that, haven’t you? Revenge is what you’re after.”

“Power is what I seek.”

“That’s what you tell yourself.”

He glared. She glared back. A standoff ensued. She knew the first one to talk lost this game of wills.

It wouldn’t be her.

He stood, ambling to the windows again, bracing his hands against the sides of the metal frames and staring at the scene before him. She wondered if he saw any of it or was inside his head, moving the pieces on his mental chess board around to see which would get him what he wanted.

But she’d hit her target, letting him know his plan wasn’t so secret. That she knew he wanted to expose the Black Swan Division and paint them as terrorists inside their own organization. Cripple the Agency. Get them tangled up in congressional hearings and a media frenzy that would land certain members of the upper echelon in prison for treason.

“Your loyalty is to the CIA,”

he said flatly.

She breathed a silent sigh. He’d spoken first. She had him on the hook. “My only loyalty is to myself. You taught me that.”

He peered at her briefly before returning to the view. “I don’t believe you.”

“Yet, here I am. Despite what Jessie believes, I willingly walked in here and am offering to help you. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to stop you. I want to help you bring down the swans and the Agency. They’ve kept me on a leash even though I walked away. I want my freedom.”

Boldly, she went around the desk and plopped down into his chair, kicking her feet up onto the corner of the black monstrosity. Everyone in the room jolted as if shocked.

The security baffoon strode toward her.

Harris held up a hand to stop him.

Tessa cocked her chin at Jessie and the guard. “I’m not saying anything else until they’re gone. Her loyalty lies with her brother, and although she’s been useful to you so far, you won’t need her any longer. Do we have a deal or not?”

Harris flared his hands outward. “I can’t simply let her walk out. She knows too much.”

She tapped her temple. “Blindspot, right there. She knows that if she talks, Tommy will die.”

She gave Jessie a stern, condescending glower. “That’s a promise, Mendoza. If you want to protect your brother, keep your mouth shut.”

Jessie stepped forward, matching her in intimidation. “Don’t you dare threaten him.”

Tessa smiled at her stepfather. “See? She’ll do anything to keep the brat safe. Tommy is her blindspot.”

Harris stood for a long moment, holding eye contact with Tessa. She saw something behind his cold, calculating gaze shift. He was logical above it all, and everything she’d told him fit with his warped belief system. He motioned at Jessie. “Go downstairs. I’ll speak to you when we’re done here.”

Tessa didn’t dare glance away. Another test. Another game. Jessie gave a dramatic sigh and stomped for the door. “You can’t trust her,”

she said to Harris. “She’s your blind spot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When the door closed behind her, he smiled at Tessa. “Time to prove yourself.”

She shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”

“Help me bring down the CIA, of course.”

Tessa returned her feet to the floor and stood, snagging a glass paperweight and toying with it. Jessie would now be on her way to the server room with the USB Tommy had given her.

Tessa needed to buy her time. Keeping her stepfather’s attention on her and feeding his ego might encourage him to divulge more than he intended.

“I admire your ambition,”

she said, shoving the stack of papers aside and finding a prize for her efforts. Carefully, with her body shielding her movements, she slipped the letter opener into her pocket before sitting on the edge of the desk. She continued to play with the glass paperweight. Nothing more than a magician’s trick to keep Harris distracted. “But ambition without precision is risky. Your plan has too many moving parts and too big of a scale. Without a solid foundation, it will fall apart.”

He bristled. “Risk is the price of progress.”

“Do you want my professional opinion or not? If all you want is someone to lick your shoes, bring Jessie back. I’m here to pick apart your plans and help you rebuild something more reliable. More satisfying.”

He stepped closer, looming over her and jerking the paperweight from her hand. The monster behind the slick suit and the overconfident ego slid to the surface. “Satisfying how?”

She’d guessed right—vengeance was still the bottom line. “Don’t you want to ensure your legacy is unassailable? To create something so flawless that no one could ever challenge it?”

The monster grinned. “Such as?”

“Are you willing to listen and do what I say?”

“I want everyone to know who I am, and I want to bring down the world so it grovels at my feet.”

“Then don’t waste my talents. I’m here. I care nothing about the Agency, so let me handle them. We need to put you to work on something bigger.”

He grabbed her chin and held her face in place as he studied her. The promise of violence was in his eyes. The feel of his cold fingers on her skin made her gut clench. Her earlier meal threatened to come back up. She held her breath, running through her options to maim him should he strike.

His grin turned pleased. That’s what he wanted—to put her in fear of him again.

With that smug smile, he released her and opened one of his desk drawers. When she saw what he withdrew, her blood ran cold. A knife.

But all he did was use it to cut through the zip tie, freeing her wrists. Tossing the knife down, he walked to a door at the far end of the room. He didn’t look back.

She followed, her pulse erratic.

And found herself inside Harris Brewer’s inner sanctum.

Time for phase two.

Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the team was inside the facility. By now, Meg and Dec should have infiltrated as maintenance workers, their uniforms and forged IDs allowing them access to critical areas. Tommy would be in the control room, monitoring the building’s systems and preparing to override them at a moment’s notice when Jessie gave him the signal. Spence was stationed nearby, ready to activate the Trojan horse Jessie was planting via the USB.

Every move was coordinated. Every contingency was accounted for. This is what Tessa did: design operations that prepared for every variable, every possibility.

Harris didn’t offer her a seat, and she didn’t take one. For the next few minutes, she continued to play on his ego and let him gloat about his supposed invincibility, asking a few questions here and there to keep him talking. As he did so, she offered suggestions for tweaking the plans he had in place to create something bigger and better.

And then, just when she thought she had him convinced of her sincerity, he chuckled. “Clever. You always were clever.”

He rose from his chair, moving to a small cabinet, where he retrieved something she couldn’t see. Returning to her, she realized too late that it was a pair of metal handcuffs. He locked one around her wrist and the other to the chair arm before she could protest.

She yanked against the restraint. “What are you doing?”

His fist came at her jaw before she could duck. She went sprawling to the ground, taking the chair over with her. Stars danced in front of her eyes, pain radiating up into her skull.

He stood over her, and she tried to scoot away before he could kick her the way he always had her mother once he got her down on the floor. Too late, he stomped a booted foot into her kidney.

She cried out, more from shock than pain, but shifted to grab his ankle. He lost his balance, tumbling into the edge of the desk. She forced herself to her feet, lunging at him.

The chair made it awkward, and he batted her away. She fell over the piece of furniture, landing on the floor, but as he came at her, she used her momentum to jerk the chair up and jammed the end of a leg into his stomach.

He bellowed, anger driving him to rush her again. She blocked him with the chair back. He snatched it from her grasp, wrenching her arm hard and slamming the edge of it down on her.

The air whooshed out of her lungs. She tried to roll away, but he kept his grip on the chair, pinning her in place.

His fist was a brick that smashed into her cheek. The second swing broke her nose.

He raised his fist to strike a third time. She screamed, and the room plunged into darkness.