chapter992

Everything happening now had been planned from the start. The whole point was to trap Connor and his team, making sure none of them would ever walk out of here. They knew Connor wasn't easy to deal with, so they went all out, even hiring a pro to disguise one of their own as Luke. All that effort, just for a single, fatal shot at him.

The poison on the knife was a new virus they'd cooked up, something nobody could cure yet. Too bad the blade missed its real target. If it had landed, Connor would be the one dying right now. Still, using it on the girl he cared about wasn't a total waste.

"Connor, how does it feel? Watching the woman you love dying in your arms... Hurts, doesn't it? You deserve it!" Falcon's laughter echoed, wild and cruel.

Connor had never felt so powerless. Even when he'd been close to death before, he'd never been this afraid or eaten up with guilt. Seeing Lydia cough up blood, all he could think was how much he wished it were him instead.

"Sweet Potato, hurry! Get Lydia's bag!" he shouted.

Connor knew Lydia's black backpack was packed with her miracle medicines. She was known as Miracle Hands, after all. If anything could fight the poison, it would be something from her stash.

With Connor's words still ringing in his ears, Sweet Potato darted for the helicopter, repeating to himself, Lydia is Miracle Hands, she's got this, she'll be okay.

Falcon, still hiding behind his men, smirked. "Connor, if you get on your knees and beg, maybe I'll think about helping her."

There was no antidote, of course. The poison was brand new, and Falcon knew it.

Connor wasn't buying a single word of his lies. His eyes were red, full of the kind of anger that promised violence. Every single one of you," he said, his voice icy and flat, "is going to die."

These people had no conscience, no decency at all. If that's how they wanted it, he'd send every last one of them straight to hell.

Falcon just laughed, loud and mean. "Connor, look around. This is my place. My people are everywhere. The only ones dying tonight are you and your team."

His men cracked up, laughing at Connor like he was some kind of joke.

"If you behave, though, and I'm feeling generous, maybe I'll make it quick and painless," Falcon added, like he was doing them a favor.

Connor ignored him. "Where's the kid? Tell me where he is," he demanded, his voice sharp and cold.

Even with Lydia hurt, he refused to lose sight of why they were here.

Falcon rolled his eyes. "Your

girlfried about that h

S about to die, and you're

still

he your secret sonet

Just then, Sweet Potato rushed back with Lydia's backpack. Connor knelt down propping Lydia up as gently as he could, his hands shaking as he opened the bag. He looked at the bottles and jars, desperate,

"Lydia, tell me. Which one? Which one can help you?"

For the first time, Connor wished he'd studied medicine. He felt useless.

Lydia was barely conscious now.

The poison was tearing through her, straight to her core. If she hadn't

grown upting who knows

with every kind of

medicine

how many poisons on herself, she'd already be dead.

She glanced at the bottles in his hand and managed to point weakly at a small, blue- green one.

Connor got it instantly, opened the bottle, and put the pill in her mouth.

Falcon watched, sneering. Don't bother. She's as good as dead. Even a miracle worker couldn't save her now."

Connor's head snapped up, eyes locked on Falcon. "This is your last chance. Where is the person we came for?"