Ryan filled the doorway. His gaze dropped to the disassembled rifle in her hands, his expression unreadable, eyes dark as midnight.
Scarlett’s breath caught. She raised her head, her voice trembling as she demanded, “Who did this?”
But she already knew. Her heart whispered the answer before he spoke. The only one who could have gotten close enough, the only one with reason to do it—was Ryan.
Her Ryan.
Her throat constricted as she choked back a sob. Her tears blurred the edges of his face.
“Was it you?”
He stood silent for a long beat before finally saying, “It was me.”
The words shattered her. Her tears slipped free, silent and merciless.
“Why?” Her voice cracked, broken.
Why send her on the mission at all? Why sabotage the very weapon she needed? Did he not know how dangerous it had been? Did he not know the price she paid for that failure?
Of course, he knew.
Ryan’s voice was steady, almost detached, as if delivering a simple report.
“It was a profitable trade.”
Her body turned cold. She understood in an instant—she had been currency. Ryan had sold her.
“You sold me?” Her voice trembled, disbelief fraying every syllable.