Charlie sat in silence, her body tense against after she listened to Harkin talking on her phone to John. The rough ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. She tried to focus on her breathing, keeping it slow and steady, but the weight of the situation pressed against her chest, making it harder to suppress the rising panic.

Is he going to kill me and John? Nononono!

"Michael, please don't do this," her voice cracked, tone almost weak since her eyes widened and her breathing became quick.

Harkin sat a few feet away, leaning against a metal crate, his fingers idly drumming against his knee. He still has her phone until he put it aside near him on the crate and looked at Charlie. His expression was bored, but she knew better. He was thinking, turning things over in his head like a man who wasn't sure what to do next.

That scared her more than anything.

He smiled at her back.

"What was it?" Harkin mused, ignoring her plea like they were chatting over coffee.

"What?"

"What was it about him?" he clarified. "John."

Charlie stiffened.

"You're a smart girl," he continued, tilting his head. "Educated. Pretty. Could have any man wrapped around your little finger." He paused, his lip curling. "But instead, you chose him."

She stayed silent.

Without warning, he came to her and his hand shot out, gripping a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back sharply. Charlie gasped, a sharp cry escaping her lips as pain flared across her scalp.

"I asked you a question," Harkin growled, his face inches from hers. His grip tightened. "What made you fall for him?"

Charlie gritted her teeth, fighting the instinct to cry out again.

As his fingers tugged again before he finally let go. She winced, blinking back the stinging in her scalp as her head snapped forward. Her breathing was still ragged, but she forced herself to sit as straight as she could, even in the bindings.

Across from her, Harkin scoffed under his breath.

"Silent treatment, huh?" he said, brushing a hand across his scalp—the motion revealing the faded, angry scar that curved along the side of his head, just beneath his cropped hairline. "Maybe that's something he taught you too?"

Her eyes flicked upward for a second—just long enough to see the way his hand lingered on that scar. And just long enough for the image to flicker in her memory: John, standing in front of her weeks ago in his bedroom, knuckles split and crusted with dried blood. The quiet but dangerous stillness in his eyes that told her not to ask what he did or where he was that night after their first passionate night back at the hotel.

He had only said, "I did my job."

Now she knew what that job was.

The scar on Harkin's head and the apartment thrashing.

She blinked. Swallowed. Forced her voice to steady.

"If you hurt me," she said quietly, "he's going to kill you."

Harkin stared at her and expression twitched—just slightly—but she saw it. The flare in his nostrils, and then came the laugh. Low. Bitter. Ugly.

"You mean like last time?" he said, tapping his fingers against the scar again. "He was a fucking animal."

Charlie didn't respond.

"Y'know," Harkin continued, his voice darkening, "I used to think I was the problem but then I saw you—little American college girl, twenty-something, wanting to find love and shit. Yeah, I almost took you for granted. And here you are, tied on a chair and you're tagging along with trained killers like you're one of them? I never expected a girl like you to be a part off. And there's him—old enough to be your father—playing house like you're some prize he earned."

She stared at him, unblinking, but inside, her chest coiled tighter. Those words ringed into ears like her mother had said, except not in a cruel way. Shaking her head, she pressed her lips tight.

"You think he loves you?" Harkin asked. "You think that bastard knows how to love anyone?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

"You don't know what you've gotten into, Charlie," he said, more to himself now as he stood and paced a few feet away. "You should've run the moment he was close to you."

Charlie didn't flinch. She waited until his back was to her as Harkin placed his hands on his hips—until the silence hung long enough for her voice to feel sharper.

"I did run," she said calmly. "But I ran back to him."

Harkin stopped mid-step and turned around to look at her.

She exhaled, even as her pulse thundered in her throat. "And if you think he's just some man who plays house, then why did you taunt him? If you knew he was a killer, he would've hurt you so bad that he left you scars on your head that I remembered him coming home with dried blood on his knuckles. Why, Michael?"

Harkin didn't answer but stared at her.

He stared at her until with a tired exhale, he shook his head.

"Fuck," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "You always did know how to cut deep."

Charlie stayed still, breathing hard, the ropes biting her skin. She didn't dare look away.

He turned from her again, pacing slower now, as if her words weighed heavier than his own rage.

"I was jealous," Harkin admitted at last but not gentler. "You want the truth? There it is."

She blinked a couple of times.

"I mean, Christ," he went on with a bitter chuckle, "I lost everything. My job. My flat. My fucking clearance. And then I see you, moving on like I was nothing. Smiling on some file photo next to him—a washed-up special ops bloke who looks like he eats grit for breakfast."

He turned, walking back toward the crate, picking up her phone and turning it over in his hand before tossing it back down.

"I kept telling myself I didn't care. That you didn't mean that much. But I was lying, alright? I was lying to myself because it hurt. You put a restraining order on me."

Charlie didn't flinch, but her jaw flexed.

"I wasn't dodgy," he said, gesturing vaguely. "Not really. Not like him. I was just stupid. Lonely. I thought maybe I'd impress you if I brought you something useful. I gave it to you thinking it'd buy me back into your life. Thought if I helped—gave you something that mattered—you'd maybe see me again. See the me that used to matter to you."

Her stomach tightened.

"And yeah," Harkin said, voice bitter again, "I was gonna sell the info. I needed the money. Burned through everything I had trying to dig myself out. I wasn't trying to screw anyone over. I just wanted a second chance. I fucked it up. I know I did."

Then he sighed.

"But what's done is done," he added, more cold now. "I've still got a job to do. So whatever lost time I thought we could fix..." he trailed off and walked back toward her, slower this time until he stopped in almost few distance from her. "... I could do my boss a favor. Don't worry, I'm not going to mess with you. It was just a way to taunt that old man to act and he can come and 'rescue' you like a good knight he was."

Her heart thundered again.

"You think I'm going to forgive you for this?" she said softly.

"I don't expect you to," he replied.

"You know he will put you down," she said, her voice quieter but firm. "Don't do this, Michael. Please, just surrender and forget about that—"

"Surrender? Charlotte, I'm working with a Russian mob and other powerful groups that can do a helluva work to make a mess and make a big case about geopolitical crap. I can't just walk away. He'll come and find me and maybe kill you cause you're a liability to my presence. So, what's the point?"

Charlie huffed and shook her head.

"You're so unbelievable, why?!"

"'Cause I need money." He answered simply.

"Fuck the money! Michael, do you realize what you're getting yourself into?" she shot back. "No one in a right mindset would do these things to create a whole mess and crap! Do you NOT realize that you're a liability to THEM too!?"

Harkin chuckled, shaking his head.

"Charlie, do you think I should be scared?" He came close and leaned in till his face was in level of her face. "I know exactly what I'm doing and I know what you wanted. You wanted a Daddy."

Her stomach twisted, her fingers clenching into fists behind the chair.

"Don't," she muttered, her voice sharp.

"Oh, no. We're just getting started, Charlotte," he continued. "Tell me why does your old man treat you like his prize?"

Charlie snapped her head up, her eyes flashing.

"Because unlike you, he gives a shit," she stated. "And that's why you'll never be enough for me."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and for a second, she thought she had pushed him too far. Then, slowly, a twisted grin crawled across his lips.

"Well, aren't you a mouthy little thing?" he said lowly. "You really think he's gonna come in here, all guns blazing, and save you like some fairytale prince?" he drawled, tilting his head. "You put a little too much faith in your man, Charlie."

She clenched her jaw, refusing to move her eyes away from him.

"You don't know him," she said, her voice firm despite the tightness in her chest.

"I know enough," he said coldly, "and I thought you should be scared of him."

"I was, but now I'm more scared of what he'll do when he comes for me."

Harkin scoffed.

"Here's how this is gonna play out," he started, his voice eerily calm. "Your Captain is gonna come stormin' in here, thinkin' he's got the upper hand. Maybe he even takes down one, maybe two of my men if he's lucky."

Her stomach twisted, but she kept her expression blank.

"But I've got six men waitin' for him. And the second he steps foot in here, they'll have their sights on him. He won't see it comin'."

He let the words hang in the air, letting the weight of them settle over her.

"So let's say he doesn't make it past them," he mused. "What do you think happens next?"

Charlie swallowed, her throat tight.

"He dies. And you? You'll be left with me. Alone."

No. He's coming for me. She reminded herself, even though the dread and fear creeping into her skin, she had to believe John will find her, just as he would escort her whenever she leaves his flat or he would find her by tracking...

My phone! He could find me through my phone and that means... does he know where I am now?

Her eyes widened, and she exhaled sharply. It was almost a relief to finally understand why John was always so protective of her. A part of her felt grateful, too, knowing that regardless of how he managed to find her, one of his team likely had the advanced tools to use and monitor any phones on the intelligence side.

Act natural, Charlie. Don't let Michael know.

"... but let's say he somehow does make it through my men." He continued. "Then what? You think he just gets to walk out of here with you? Nah. He'll be bleeding by then. Weak. And I'll be right here, waitin' to put a bullet in him myself."

She forced herself to hold his gaze and never flinch.

She couldn't let him see the panic clawing at her chest.

"You won't."

Harkin arched a brow. "Oh?"

She shook her head in respond. "You're scared of him."

His smirk faltered, just for a second. Then, in the blink of an eye, his expression hardened.

"Bullshit," he growled. "You think he's invincible?"

Charlie tried to keep her breathing even as she stared back at Harkin, matching his cold gaze with one of her own. She knew she was taking a risk by goading him, but if she could make him doubt himself, make him second guess his plan a little bit, it might buy John more time.

"I don't think he is," she said evenly. "But I know what he's capable of. And so do you."

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger, but Charlie pressed on.

"That's why you're so pissed off, isn't it?" she challenged. "Because he already beat you once. He left you that scar to remind you not to cross him again. But here you are, trying the same thing twice. He showed you mercy last time. You really think he'll make that mistake again?"

Harkin turned away, raking a hand through his faded hair in agitation as he paced. Charlie watched him, heart pounding, as her words sank in. She could almost see the doubt creeping into the edges of his bravado.

When Harkin turned back, his eyes were hard.

"You don't know anything," he bit out. But there was a slight waver in his voice that gave Charlie a glimmer of hope.

Before she could respond, a heavy bang sounded against the metal door of the warehouse, making them both jump. Harkin whirled, eyes wide, as more blows rained down, the door buckling under some massive force.

Her heart leaped.

John!

Harkin grabbed his knife from his belt.

"Son of a bitch actually came," he muttered under his breath. Charlie thought she detected a hint of fear in his voice.

The door finally gave way with an ear-splitting screech of metal, crashing to the floor. Dust billowed in the doorway, momentarily obscuring their view of the figure striding into the warehouse.

Charlie glanced back, and her heart stopped before she exhaled in relief.