The last of the thugs had fled, but he still hadn’t brought his team inside.
Elissa had already surveyed the factory earlier—there was no way out through the front door. Struggling to her feet, lungs burning from the thick smoke, she pointed to a high window above them. “You—you need to climb out through there,” she gasped.
The window was high up and she was far too weak to make it herself. But if Frank could get out, he could unlock the door from the outside.
Frank hadn’t expected this. After everything he’d done to her, she was still thinking of his safety in a life-or-death moment. “Elissa, I’m the one who wronged you before, I—”
“I don’t have time for this,” Elissa cut him off, urgency tightening her voice. “Can you just climb out already?”
If he didn’t move, the bomb would go off and they’d both die here.
“Alright.”
Frank knew this wasn’t the time for apologies. He grabbed a chair, propped it under the window, and with a practiced push, vaulted himself out with ease.
He’d always been athletic—this was nothing for him.
But then, strangely, the bomb didn’t go off.
Bang!
Frank had barely landed outside when, behind him, the heavy metal door was kicked open from the outside.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Frank.
A group burst in. One of them swept Elissa up and rushed her toward the exit. She was half-delirious from the smoke, only vaguely aware of fresh air hitting her face as she staggered, then was lifted into someone’s arms.
“Elissa!”
Frank eyed the newcomers warily. “Who are you people?”
“Move!” barked the leader, not bothering to answer. Satisfied that Elissa was safe, he signaled the rest—men in dark uniforms, clearly highly trained—and they vanished as quickly as they’d come.
On the way to the hospital, Frank couldn’t shake the feeling they were being followed.


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