“You can’t hide from me, Taylor. You should know that by now.”

In the blinking light, she spotted him trying to get the door open, but some genius had cut off the electricity. Yes! She hoped she knew who that genius might be.

Please, Colt, be looking for me. But maybe she shouldn’t wish it. After all . . .

Aw, forget it. With everything inside her she longed for Colt to be the guy to break down the door and find her. To yes, rush right into trouble to sweep her up and save her and—and maybe that’s exactly why the world needed guys like Colt. For moments when there was no choice. When the worst had to be done.

When trouble was the only answer.

But even trouble needed someone to love him. To stand her ground and believe in him, and pray for him, and be there when he came home.

So yes, she got it. Please, God, if you’re listening . . . send Colt.

And maybe it was selfish, but she sorta thought that maybe that was exactly the prayer Colt might want her to pray.

Around her, the drones crashed into the walls, each other, screeching, rebounding. An airborne minefield. Releasing the S-poxR virus as they fell to the cement.

The place was a toxic war zone.

Sergei had returned to his computer, was maybe trying to shut down the drones, but one flew by and clipped him, and he too dropped to the floor.

Vanishing into the darkness.

She had to get out of here.

Focus.

“Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s doing what you must do, despite the fear.”

She closed her eyes to Colt’s voice. Solid. Unwavering, and tried to clamp down on her trembling.

And just like that, she was ten years old. Standing at the door as her father crouched in front of her, dressed in his uniform, as she sobbed. And as if it were yesterday, she felt his hands on her shoulders, heard his low, solid voice.

“God is with me, Tae. And with you. And nothing can separate us from his love. Not evil. Not war. Not sickness. Not even death. I’m in good hands. And so are you, Tae-bear.”

Oh, not now. But the words welled up inside her, pushed out tears.

Fine. She opened her eyes to a hundred tiny lights flashing through the hangar. Flickering upon the floor, the walls.

The far door.

Okay, so if Colt wasn’t going to show up, she’d try something else. Please, God, rescue me.

She shot a glance toward the computer’s glowing hue.

Reaching up on the bench, her hand closed around a tool. A screwdriver. She tucked it close.

That could work.

As if she’d use it, but she had kicked out the door of her airplane, so maybe.