Chapter 37: The Rescue (Nate POV)

My head throbbed, heavy and slow, like I’d been hit with something hard. I came to, my eyes blurry, the world dark around me. My hands wouldn’t move, the rope biting into my wrists, tight and cutting my skin. My legs were stuck too, tied to a chair, my body slumped. Panic hit fast, my breath short, my chest tight. Where was I? The last thing I remembered was running from Talia’s, the folder under my arm, Liam splitting left with the flash drive. Then, nothing.

The room was cold, small, no windows, just a dim bulb swinging above, casting shadows. My mouth tasted like blood, and my face stung where it hurt. My stomach twisted, the folder, my proof, was gone. I jerked my arms, the rope burning, but it didn’t budge. “Liam,” I muttered, my voice weak and cracked. He’d gotten away, had to. But me, I was caught. Harper’s people, Graham’s, they’d found me.

A crackle cut through the quiet, sharp and loud, a speaker somewhere. Then her voice, smooth and cold, filled the room. “Nate,” Harper said, her tone mocking, as if she were right there. “Awake at last. Took you long enough.”

My head snapped up, my eyes darting, searching for her. Nothing, just the walls, the bulb, that voice. “Harper,” I said, my voice rough, my throat dry. “Where am I?”

She laughed, soft and mean, like she was enjoying herself. “Somewhere safe,” she said, her voice echoing in the silence. “Away from trouble—for now. Liam’s mine now, Nate. You’re alone again.”

My heart stopped, my hands clenching against the rope. Liam—hers? No, he’d run, he’d promised. “You’re lying,” I said, my voice shaking, my chest burning. “He’s got the drive, he’s out.”

“Is he?” she said, her voice low and cutting. “He’s smart, knows a losing fight when he sees one. Graham’s got him in line. You’re the one who’s out, Nate, done.”

I shook my head, my breath coming faster, my hands pulling harder against the ropes. Doubt crept in, cold and sharp. Liam, he’d sold me out before, stood there on TV, said I’d done it alone. That look in the park, “Let me earn it back,” was it real? Or was this, Harper, Graham, his choice again? My chest hurt, my eyes burning. “No,” I said, my voice low and desperate. “He wouldn’t—not again.”

“Wouldn’t he?” she said, her voice sharp now. “You trusted him—a big mistake. He’s with us, Nate, always was. Enjoy the dark.”

The speaker clicked off, the silence heavy and crushing. I sat there, my head spinning, my hands shaking against the ropes. Liam—mine now. The words stuck, twisting in my gut. I saw his face, guilty, pleading, promising me in the park. Then, outside Talia’s, “Our shot,” his eyes steady. Was it a lie? Had he run to Graham, handed over the drive, left me here? My throat tightened, my breath quickening. I’d let him in, just a little, and now, betrayed again?

I yanked at the ropes, my wrists raw, my voice breaking. “No,” I said, louder now, my chest heaving. “He wouldn’t—I know him.” But did I? That testimony, his silence after—it had cut me deep. What if Harper was right, what if he’d flipped? My hands shook harder, my head dropping, doubt eating me alive. The folder was gone, the drive, maybe with her now. And I was trapped, alone, just as she’d planned.

A bang cut through, loud and sharp, the door flying open. My head jerked up, my heart racing. A figure stumbled in, battered and bloody, breathing hard. Liam. My breath caught, my eyes wide. He looked rough—face bruised, shirt torn, hands shaking—but he was here.

“Nate,” he said, his voice rough, rushing to me.

“Liam?” I said, my voice cracking, my chest tight. He dropped to his knees, pulling a knife from his pocket, cutting at the ropes. His hands shook, his breath fast, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re okay,” he said, his voice breaking, slicing through the last of the rope.

My hands fell loose, my wrists stinging, my legs wobbly as he pulled me up. “You’re here,” I said, my voice weak, my head spinning. Harper’s voice, “Liam’s mine,” rang in my ears, but he was here, cutting me free, not with her.

“Yeah,” he said, his hands on my arms, steadying me. “I’m not losing you again, I swear it.” His voice was raw, his eyes wet, and I saw it—the truth, fear, everything I’d wanted to believe.

I stared at him, my chest loosening, doubt fading slowly. “She said—” I started, my voice shaky, but he cut me off.

“She’s lying,” he said, his voice hard, his hands tight on me. “Graham grabbed me, wanted the drive. I wouldn’t give it, fought out. Came for you.”

My hands shook, my legs weak, but I nodded, my breath slowing. “Okay,” I said, my voice quiet, leaning on him. “The folder—they took it.”

“I’ve got the drive,” he said, patting his pocket, his voice firm. “We’re not done.”

I nodded again, my head clearing, my hands steadying. He’d come back, fought for me. “Let’s go,” I said, my voice stronger, stepping toward the door.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me out into the hall, dark and narrow. My legs moved slow at first, my head still pounding. We hit a stairwell, my shoes slipping, Liam’s hand tight on me.

“Faster,” he said, his voice urgent, pushing me down. My chest burned, my hands gripping the rail, the folder’s loss stinging, but Liam’s grip kept me up.

We burst outside, the night air cold, a parking lot ahead, empty but for shadows. I ran, my legs shaky, Liam beside me, the flash drive his lifeline now. My hands clenched, empty, the folder gone, but we had something, we still had a chance. We crossed the lot, my breath ragged, my head turning to him.

“You okay?” I asked, my voice rough.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, his face bruised but set. “You?”

“Been better,” I said, my voice cracking, a small smile tugging at my lips. He smiled back, weak but real, and my chest warmed, just a bit.

We hit the street, my legs pushing harder, but I stumbled, my head spinning, my hands grabbing at air. Liam caught me, his arm around me, steadying me.

“Easy,” he said, his voice soft, pulling me up. I clutched my side—sore, bruised, my other hand empty, the folder’s weight missing.

“Keep going,” I said, my voice shaky, leaning on him. We moved slowly now, the dark stretching ahead. Then, headlights, bright and sharp, cut through the darkness. My heart stopped, my hands clenching, the beams pinning us in place.