The plane was slicing through the air, on its side. Whistling as it plunged, faster and faster. Shaking—the makeup of the plane, the fiberglass, plastics, metals and bolts were vibrating, buckling as if the plane were about to be torn in two.

Flashes of lightning! The slapping of hundreds of thousands of beads of rain, made worse by the fact that the plane was slapping back, like two closed fists slamming together mid-punch. Thunder roaring all around.

Virginia needed to get Chad out of the pilot’s seat before the plane was torn apart by their trajectory.

She yanked on his seatbelt, trying to get it undone. Finally she took the knife from her hair and cut the seatbelt away. Since they were listed on their side, she would have to pull him up and out of the seat. She yelled as she pulled and lifted the heavy man an inch at a time out of the seat, out of her way.

Then she climbed over his slumped body, into the seat.

“Brandon!” she yelled as she assumed the controls.

She needed him to be prepared to take over.

Jake had left the cockpit, was apparently dealing with the passengers. She heard gunshots being fired from back in the plane.

“Brandon!”

It was no use. It was so loud here that the gunshots that were only twenty feet away sounded like a muted bass drum. Kick, kick. Or maybe even a Tap, tap, like the sound of a loose snare. Whether or not Jake was a prodigy with his gun and was handling the situation in the fuselage, Virginia needed to prove her prodigious nature with the rescue of this plane.

She turned the yoke as hard as she could and held it steady as the plane, whistling through the air, began to level. The instrument panel was full of red lights, warning signals, needles past maximum lines. Looking out the windshield was no use. All she could see was water beating against it—a constant stream of thick water.

Darkness beyond.

They’d called in backup through their earpieces, as was protocol.

Shannon was in this room—this musty, damp box.

Supervisor Paige was on the floor, perfectly alive, but currently out of the game.

Two men, more than twice the size of her, coming at her.

One with a flashlight.

It wasn’t a dainty little flashlight. It was bulky and metal. It could be used as a weapon. She was more than aware of that. She was standing at ready, watching the men. Occasionally seeing them when the lightning flashed through the windows. Mostly though they were dim silhouettes behind the light of the blinding flashlight.

Shannon knew that more field agents would be here in about three minutes. Certainly not more than five minutes. She didn’t have a lot of time to fight it out with these guys.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t have anything to say.

Neither did they.

Flashlight guy was the closest now. About four feet from her. The other guy was about five feet from her. Who would strike first?

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Shannon started to shake.

These guys had the same training as her. Except she was out of practice. She’d taken down the sixty-year-old. These guys were late-twenties, early-thirties. And she was a girl, much smaller.

The rain patter on the rooftop was relaxing. A constant noise. Falling smoothly down the windows, around the box. Around the experiment.

Shannon decided to let them make the first move.

She would fight dirty.

That was the only way to win.

Muted lightning flashes came through the overhead windows, splaying sharply across the vaulted ceiling, dimly across the floor.

The man moved. Arcing his flashlight, swinging it towards her head. He’d stepped into range. Shannon responded, went low, moved in as fast as she could, grabbing his leg—the one furthest away from the second guy, who was on the left.

She wanted to put flashlight guy between her and the second guy. It was a basic tactic to try to engage one person at a time.

She threw the guy onto his side. He hit the ground hard, dropping his flashlight, which rolled across the floor. It was no longer shining in her eyes, but there were spots in her vision now.

The man began to rise, not daring to turn his back to Shannon to retrieve the light. When he was still halfway up, Shannon landed a front kick right into his face. He slammed back into the ground, unconscious.

His body was between her and the final guy.

The guy didn’t hesitate to jump over the agent’s body. He tried to land a sidekick. Shannon twisted out of the way. Then she started running for the exit before his foot came out of the kick. The door was fifteen feet away. The back exit.

In a matter of moments, she flew through the door, into the open. The floor was dirt out here—well, mud. At the front of the building were an abandoned parking lot and a less-traveled and less kept-up road. That’s where the backup would be arriving.

The back of the building was a small wooded area. Pretty dense. At the other side of the wooded area were mountains, dirt roads, not many houses. She didn’t want to run in that direction. She needed to take out this final guy because he would be right behind her in a split second no matter which way she chose to go. She didn’t need a tail.

Then she needed to drive out of here. She waited in the rain, standing on the loose ground—

And the man burst through the door.

It was brighter out here, and she could see the field agent clearly. She had never known his name but she’d seen him around the office. His hair was immediately soaked, like hers.

He ran at her.

She stood her ground.

He was coming in, cocking his arm.

It was her turn for a sidekick, to show him how it was done. She knew that her greatest ally was speed. This guy was big and bulky. She was small and fast.

He didn’t see the sidekick coming.

She slammed her foot into his liver.

Since he’d been running at her, the kick was that much more potent. He fell back into the mud, trying to stand, clutching his stomach.

Fight dirty.

Shannon planted her knee into the side of the guy’s head. His body fell into the mud. Unconscious. Big beads of rain splashing down around him.

She unholstered his pistol.

Now she was moving toward her car, which was parked in front of the building.

She took her cellphone from her pocket. It was still connected to her earpiece, which was weird because she hadn’t heard Virginia, only noises, coming from the earpiece. Or maybe her mind hadn’t been paying attention.

“Virginia. Virginia.”

Virginia’s signal might have been the faulty one.

Either way, Shannon would have to ditch the phone and earpiece. It could be tracked too easily. She dropped each into the mud, got into her car, turned on the engine.

Slid on the heater as she pulled onto the road and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Backup hadn’t arrived yet. Now she just had to disappear.

Shannon looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. Her hair was soaked, clinging to the sides of her face. She brushed it back, out of the way. She examined her hands, which were on the wheel. Her knuckles were red.

She took a deep breath.

She thought about Virginia.

She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

The rain was pounding the car, pouring over and along the windshield wipers. She could only see a few feet out in front. Which was a good thing. She was safe. USI would never find her in this rain.

But she couldn’t go to her boyfriend, her mom. She couldn’t go to anyone. And the thought brought tears to her eyes. They rolled down her wet cheeks. The tears felt hot against the cold water.

Shannon wiped them away.