Page 30 of Knight

It’s either turned off or has a dead battery. Convenient.

My eyes lift to meet hers.

“I’m ordering food. Pizza good enough?”

The subject change throws her. Good. Off-balance means honest reactions, and right now I need to observeeverythingabout her responses.

Her eyes widen. “Food? You’re thinking about food?”

"I could let you starve while I figure out what to do with you instead, if you prefer. Much more efficient that way." The sarcasm rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. "Contrary to whatever scenario you've built in your head, dead bodies are incredibly inconvenient."

"How would you know?"

"Youreallywant me to answer that?"

She flinches slightly. No pretense there—just genuine fear of the man who held her captive. Who still is. Another perfectly normal reaction that makes no fucking sense if this is an infiltration attempt.

"Pepperoni or cheese?"

"What?"

"Pizza toppings. Simple choice." I scroll through delivery options, mind still analyzing reactions and possibilities. "Though if you prefer to continue our staring contest, that works too."

"I ..." She swallows. "Pepperoni. If I actually get a choice."

The order goes through. Fifteen minutes, which means it’ll be ten.

I go back to looking at her. She shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t say anything.

Okay,think.

If she’s innocent, then someone has manipulated this woman for weeks, building her trust with an elaborate lie. They made her believe completely in their version of me.Socompletely that she walked into my apartment in the middle of the night without hesitation. No fear. No suspicion. Just absolute confidence she was meeting someone who wanted to help her.

Why?To get a phone inside my apartment.

Every piece of evidence points to her being exactly what she appears to be. A civilian who thought she was walking into a friend's apartment. Someone who truly believed she wasmeeting the person she’s spent weeks connecting with, sharing fears. Someone who’s spent weeks understanding her pain, supporting her search, and giving her hope.

The perfect unwitting courier who wouldn't know they were carrying anything. Wouldn't trigger any behavioral alerts. Wouldn't hesitate at the door. Would walk right in, convinced they were safe and had every right to be here.

Which means either someone made an enormous mistake choosing such an obviously innocent person as their infiltrator ...

Or they chose her preciselybecauseshe’s innocent.

Because they knew that every frightened reaction, every genuine confusion, every moment of raw terror would convince me she couldn't possibly be part of a larger plan.

The phone sits on my palm, cold and silent.Waiting.

Like the perfect trap. But one that only works if you think you've found it yourself.

Which means either they grossly underestimated my security protocols … Or the phone itself isn't what matters.

What matters is that Ifoundit.

The question is why?

And what will happen when I try to turn it on?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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