Page 27 of Sweet Betrayal

She looked over at him, brows knit. “What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“About what?”

He hesitated.

She wasn’t going to let it go. Her gaze pinned him like a spotlight. “Tom. What aren’t you telling me?”

She had a sharp mind, he’d give her that. And a sharper instinct.

He exhaled. “Look. The intel’s in your head now, yeah? That makes you the mission. And if the rebels catch wind of who you are and what you know…” He trailed off.

Her eyes went wide, face draining of color. “You mean... they’d torture me?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His silence said enough.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, folding into herself.

“I won’t let that happen,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It won’t get that far.”

But she caught something in his tone—something grim, something final.

Her frown deepened. “What do you mean by that?”

He closed his eyes briefly. This wasn’t the time. Not now. But the truth was already bleeding through, and there was no putting it back.

“I mean I’ve got orders,” he said, voice flat. “Classified intel must not fall into enemy hands. At any cost.”

She stared at him. “You mean... if we get caught, if there’s no way out... you’re supposed to...?”

He couldn’t say it. So he didn’t.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Oh, my God.”

Tom stepped forward again, crouched so they were eye level. “It’s not going to come to that. I’ll keep you out of sight, off the grid. No checkpoints. No scans. We won’t touch a single road if we don’t have to. But you need to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I want to,” she said quietly. “But... it’s a lot.”

“I know.” He stood again, jaw tight. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know what’s at stake.”

She took a slow, shaky breath, her fingers curling into the armrest like anchors. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “We’ve got to prep. Every second counts. The smoother we plan this, the fewer risks we take.”

“Okay.” But she still looked shaken. He couldn’t blame her. It was a lot to take in. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

She pushed herself up and stood in front of him. “I am trusting you to get me out of here. You’d better not let those rebels anywhere near me. I don’t plan on dying out here in the desert, especially not by your hand.” She prodded him in the chest. “You got that, Marine?”

Something cracked in his chest. The way she stood there, fire in her eyes, shaking but unflinching. She was so damn brave.

Suddenly, her face morphed into Amrain’s and instead of standing in his living room, she was lying on a concrete floor, a pool of blood oozing out from beneath her.

He blinked, and the vision disappeared. “Understood.”

This mission was different. Hannah wasn’t Amrain. She wasn’t a traitor.

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