Ellie lifted her head, attempting again to peer into the darkness surrounding her. It smelled musty and dank. She couldn’t see a dammed thing, except for pitch black.

Her heart pounded with dread. How many hours had passed? Or had it been days? She’d lost all track of time. Did it matter? After she’d been tossed in the truck bed, everything had gone blank. She’d woken up only to find herself bound upright to a wooden chair, hands still zip-tied behind her, shoulders aching from the tension, burning, like they were being pulled out of their sockets. Her feet had been tied to the chair legs. At least that awful gag had been removed. Which meant only one thing.

Even if she screamed and called for help, no one would hear her.

She’d carefully moved what she could and determined she hadn’t been seriously injured in the car crash. At least, she thought so. She might be slowly bleeding to death for all she knew. She ached, there were definitely a few bruises, but as far as she could tell, no broken bones. Overwhelmed and with ears ringing, she had come close to hyperventilating before she got herself under control. Think! What would Asher do? She tried not to think the worst, to believe that Asher was dead. Not Asher. But that gunshot . . . 

The room was so black. Not just dark like a room at night, with even the faintest glow of moonlight shining through window, but pitch black. Solid. So dark that even if she could lift a hand in front of her face, she wouldn’t have been able to see it. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she squinted, looked up, down, and to the sides, she saw nothing.

“Is anybody out there?”

Her voice didn’t sound like her voice. It sounded scratchy, filled with fear and resignation. She didn’t expect an answer. She hadn’t heard anything except her own movement as she’d tried to struggle, to escape her bindings, the only sound the soft brush of her clothing against the wooden chair. Could the sound of her voice tell her anything about the size of the space? Hard to tell. Wherever she was being held, it was bigger than a closet, but smaller than a garage or basement. Maybe. Where the hell was she?

She heard no sounds, no footsteps, no voices. Not even outdoor sounds like crickets, roadways, or an airplane passing overhead. Like the darkness, the silence felt deafening. She tried not to think the worst, that whoever her captors were had left her here, tied up and alone in the darkness to die of starvation or thirst. Or to go mad with the silence and the darkness.

The room smelled old and musty. Maybe she’d never be found, her flesh left to slowly decay and rats or other night creatures to feast on it, leaving nothing but her bones behind. She didn’t want to die like that. Lost forever. But how could she escape? She didn’t even know where she was.

How many times during the past hours had she promised herself that if she got out of this, she’d be done with hacking for good? If. A big if. And Asher. She still didn’t know who he worked for, but one thing she couldn’t deny was that he’d risked his life for her. He’d done everything he could to protect her. He’d likely died trying to save her. Grief, remorse, and pain swept through her, prompting a warm flush of tears. Her shoulders shook with silent weeping. What had she done? Whose toes had she stepped on that were worth someone’s life?

How could she—

A dull thud sounded . . . from above, but not close, followed by another. Her heart leapt into her throat and she stiffened, every muscle tense with horrified expectation. Were they going to kill her now? What did they want from her? Whoever they were . . . Footsteps from above echoed hollowly down into the chamber or wherever the hell she was. A door squeaked open, a heavy metal door protesting, followed by an echoing bang as it made contact with the wall behind it. The sound reverberated through the . . . wherever she was. Echoing. A large space. More footsteps, coming downstairs. How many? Two? Three? She couldn’t tell. They still weren’t particularly close. Suddenly, so suddenly that it took her by surprise, a row of fluorescent lights lit up along the ceiling, one at a time, from the far end of a room to directly above. They were so bright she gasped with pain, closed her eyes, and lowered her head against it.

Nevertheless, in their brief instant, she had seen enough. She was imprisoned in a large chamber filled with jail cells. Cement walls were on the sides, iron bars on the front. Her chair was situated between two bare metal bunks bolted into cinderblock wall covered with graffiti. She couldn’t see what was behind her, but had a feeling it was an open toilet. A prison? She was being held in an abandoned prison?

Voices. Male, talking softly among themselves. Oh, God, where they coming to kill her now? To—

“Close your eyes.”

The command came from a deep male voice. She didn’t recognize it as being from the men who had been at the scene of the crash. This one had a slight Southern accent. Without thinking, she obeyed. Where was she? Was she still in New Hampshire or—

A key slid into a lock on the barred doors before her. She waited with bated breath, her mouth so dry she thought she’d gag, her heart pounding so hard it was a wonder it didn’t burst from her chest. If her hands and feet hadn’t been tied behind her, surely they would see her wild trembling.

Footsteps came closer and moved around the chair behind her. She smelled aftershave and felt the brush of fabric against her shoulder. A blindfold was placed over her eyes and secured tightly against the back of her head. The footsteps moved away. Even through the blindfold, she felt eyes on her. She wanted to ask who they were and what they wanted, what they were going to do to her, but she forced herself to remain silent. A sense, a very brief sense, of bravado took over. If they wanted something from her, they were going have to work for it.

“You’re good, Ellie, or should I call you Dysmonia?”

That was Southern Guy asking. She didn’t answer. Footsteps approached. She felt warm fingers touch her jaw. She jerked, biting back a yelp of surprise. Her heart raced, forcing her to clench her jaw, to prevent the whine from escaping her throat.

“You just don’t know when to stop, do you? Then again, we have more than one way to stop you from meddling. But the thing is, Ellie, you found something else we’re interested in, and we want to know more about it.”

Again, she said nothing. Southern Guy hadn’t asked her a question. It was a comment. Silence filled her jail cell. They waited for a response, but she said nothing. She had no idea how she was supposed to respond.

“I can be patient, Ellie, but only so much. We want information from you. If you give it to us, I’ll consider letting you go. If you don’t, you’ll soon regret your lack of cooperation.”

Finally, she spoke. “What information?” She cringed at the hoarseness and fear in her voice.

“Your snooping around in our database caught our attention, but eventually we were able to follow your digital trail. Someone’s helping you. You came across an operative. Who is he, and who does he work for?”

An operative? What the hell was he talking about? Asher? Asher wasn’t an operative . . . was he?

“Cat got your tongue? We’ve been following you. One step ahead of you. All the way from your apartment in Boston to Keene, New Hampshire. You see, we’re pretty good, too. While we’re none too pleased that you accessed our database, you can be assured that we’ve taken steps to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Right now, we’re more interested in the DARC program.”

“Dark program? I don’t understand,” she said, confused. “What kind of dark program are you talking about?”

“Don’t waste my time, Ellie.”

“But I don’t know anything,” she insisted. What was a dark program?

“The guy with you. He works for the DARC group.”

Dark group? She didn’t understand what he meant. “He didn’t tell me anything about who he worked for, just that . . . just that I had found . . .” Should she tell them? Was this guy telling the truth? Was Asher a bad guy, just like this group? All these private security agencies, some legitimate, some not so much. How the hell was she supposed to know who was who, especially when she didn’t know much about either of them; the Guardian Knights or this dark group that Asher supposedly worked with.

“We’ll make you a deal, Ellie. You do something for us, and we’ll let you go, even provide you with a completely new identity. You don’t know who we are, what we look like, and believe me, no matter how good you are, you won’t be able to hack us again. We’ve made sure of that. So, you really don’t have anything to lose, unless . . . well, what do you say?”

She swallowed, her mind racing. Despite what little she had learned about the Guardian Knights, they were definitely involved in illegal activities. The good guys didn’t kidnap you and hold you hostage.

She had been convinced that Asher worked for good guys, equally secretive, but how could she know for sure? For all she knew, he could work for a competitor of the Guardian Knights. How many times had she asked Asher about his boss, that guy he was calling all the time, only to be brushed off? Was this whole thing one big pissing match to see who had the biggest gun?

No. She didn’t think so. The emotion in his eyes as they’d made love. That couldn’t be faked. She also knew that these guys could be—probably were—lying. They weren’t going to let her go. They claimed that she couldn’t expose them anymore, but Ellie didn’t really believe it. She was good, and if she wanted to find something, she could. They could put up all the firewalls and traps they wanted, but eventually, she would find a way in. They had to know that, too.

“What you want from me?” She dropped her voice—quiet, contemplative. As if she were truly considering it.

“First, we need to know who this operative is and what he wants with you.”

Should she tell them? At least, honesty was the best policy. Besides, it was the truth. “All he told me was that they, whoever they are, because I really don’t know, wanted to keep an eye on me because I found a photograph or something, and they wanted to make sure that I didn’t expose their organization.” She put some emotion into her voice. “You need to believe me . . . I have no idea who they are! He never told me!”

“Photograph?”

If possible, her mouth grew even drier. She tried to work up enough spit to swallow but failed. She nodded. “It was just a group of guys in wet suits. I couldn’t see much of their faces, their location, or anything else. That’s it, I swear!”

“All this, just because they didn’t want what you digging deeper?” The man sounded doubtful.

“I don’t know!” Ellie paused. Should she say more? “Well, that was all at the beginning, until I got attacked in an alley. One of your guys?” she dared ask but received no answer. “And I also assume one of your people was also behind my stolen money, those false warrants, the explosion, the attack on . . .” She shut up.

“Attack on who?”

She shouldn’t have opened her mouth. She shouldn’t . . . was he even alive? A surge of emotion swept through her, overwhelming even her fear of what would happen to her in the next few minutes or hours. She heard a rush of movement and then the crack of flesh against flesh, followed by the sting of pain from an openhanded slap against her cheek, snapping her head to the side. She gasped, a cry of alarm and pain erupting from her throat. Tears stung her eyes, and her heart raced. This couldn’t be happening. This—

“Might as well spill it all, Ellie. He’s dead now, so what difference does it make?”

The air left her lungs as if she’d taken a punch to the gut. Was Asher really dead? Or was Southern Guy lying to get her to do what he wanted? Was she talking to Clay Mosby, the CEO of Guardian Knights?

In the beginning, when she first met Asher, she’d been afraid that he hadn’t been truthful with her, insisting that he was one of the good guys. But now? She was positive Asher had been telling the truth. She had to figure out a way to escape or get the good guys to come to her. But how?

“What you want me to do?” Maybe her question would distract them from Asher on to the other thing they wanted her to do.

“All right then, Ellie, we’ll come back to your friend later. No rush. Here’s what I want you to do.”

He told her, and as he spoke, Ellie’s disbelief grew by leaps and bounds. What the hell were these guys into? They wanted her to hack into some highly classified files within the Department of Homeland Security! While Southern Guy told her that they had some pretty good hackers of their own, she was even better, and they needed her skills. Again, he promised to let her go and provide transport to wherever she wanted to go, with a new identity, if she agreed to help them.

When he finished talking, she remained quiet for a moment, her thoughts racing. Then, her voice barely above a whisper, she asked the question. “And if I don’t?”

Southern Guy chuckled. “Let’s just say that you’ll wish you were already dead.”