Rice didn't lower the Glock.Eliana stood in the doorway, her hands raised slightly, her gray eyes fixed on his. She looked different from the last time he'd seen her—thinner, her face drawn with exhaustion. She wore dark tactical clothing, a radio earpiece visible against her neck. There was blood on her sleeve, fresh and glistening."Dominic," she said again. "I need you to trust me.""Trust you?" Rice's voice was flat, cold. "The last time I trusted you, you shot me in the neck.""I shot near your neck. There's a difference." She took a careful step forward, her hands still raised. "If I'd wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You know that."Rice's finger tightened on the trigger, but he didn't fire. She was right. She'd had every opportunity to kill him—in the desert, in the chaos of the ambush. Instead, she'd given him the chip. She'd pointed him toward the truth."Why are you here?" he asked."The same reason you are." Eliana's eyes flicked toward the staircase behind her. "Your daug

The safehouse was a modest apartment on the outskirts of Bern, tucked into a quiet residential street where nothing ever happened.Rice had been there for three days.He'd spent most of that time sleeping—twelve hours the first night, then ten, then eight. His body was healing slowly, the deep exhaustion finally releasing its grip. The wounds from the past weeks had scabbed over, the bruises fading from purple to yellow. He'd lost weight, but Charlotte had stocked the kitchen with food, and he forced himself to eat three meals a day.Sophie was recovering faster than he'd expected. Children were resilient that way. She'd been quiet at first, withdrawn, jumping at sudden noises. But slowly, day by day, she'd begun to emerge from her shell. She smiled more often now. She laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones. She asked questions about her mother, about their old house in Virginia, about the life she'd been taken from.Rice answered as honestly as he could. The truth was painful, but s

The safehouse in Bern felt smaller now.Rice sat at the kitchen table, a cup of cold coffee untouched before him. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting pale shadows across the room. Sophie was still asleep in the bedroom, her breathing soft and steady. Charlotte had left an hour ago, heading to a meeting with her Interpol contact. Eliana was in the bathroom, washing away the blood and grime of the past three days.The house was quiet. Peaceful, almost.But Rice couldn't relax. His body was still coiled, still waiting for the next threat, the next ambush, the next betrayal. The adrenaline had faded, but the vigilance remained—a survival instinct carved into his bones by years of violence.The bathroom door opened, and Eliana emerged. She'd changed into clean clothes—a sweater and jeans that Charlotte had left for her. The bruises on her face were beginning to fade, but the exhaustion in her eyes was still there, deep and unrelenting."Sophie's still asleep?" she aske

Prague was a city of shadows and stone.Rice stood at the window of the safehouse, watching the snow fall over the red-tiled rooftops of the Old Town. The Charles Bridge stretched across the Vltava in the distance, its ancient statues dusted with white. The city was beautiful in a cold, timeless way—a place that had survived empires, wars, and occupations. It would survive this too.The safehouse was a small apartment above a bookshop, its windows overlooking a narrow cobblestone street. Eliana's contact had arranged it—a Czech former intelligence officer named Marek who'd been watching the townhouse for days. He was in the kitchen now, spreading maps across the table, his voice low and urgent."The meeting is confirmed for tomorrow night," Marek said. "At least fifteen operatives have arrived in the past forty-eight hours. They're staying in safehouses across the city, but they'll all converge on the townhouse at eight o'clock."Rice turned from the window. "What about Voss?""She's

The safehouse was silent.Rice sat in the darkness, the Glock disassembled on the table before him. He'd cleaned it twice already, but the ritual brought him comfort. Each piece gleamed in the pale light filtering through the window—the slide, the barrel, the spring, the frame. A weapon reduced to its components, waiting to be made whole again.Eliana was asleep on the couch, her breathing soft and even. She'd collapsed an hour ago, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Rice envied her. His own mind refused to quiet, turning over the events of the night like a stone in his hand.Voss had escaped. Marek had betrayed them. And somewhere in Prague, the remnants of Meridian's leadership were regrouping, planning their next move.The burner phone buzzed. Rice glanced at it, expecting Danny. The number was unknown.He answered without speaking."Mr. Rice." The voice was familiar—cold, precise, utterly controlled. "I trust you survived your little fall."Voss.Rice's hand tightened on