The Mute Bride's Secret Revenge Gamble

The comms unit vibrated in Alys's hand.

Location Locked. Security Team Inbound.

"Damn it," Alys hissed. It was biometrically locked to the man in the mud. It was a beacon, not a tool.

She threw the device into a tide pool and scrambled up the scree slope. Her legs burned. The adrenaline from the jump was fading, replaced by the bone-deep chill of the Pacific.

A beam of light cut through the bushes ahead of her.

"Over here! I saw movement!"

Elena's private security.

Alys dropped to the ground. She grabbed a handful of loose dirt. When the boots crunched next to her head, she threw the dirt upward.

The guard cursed, rubbing his eyes. Alys swept his legs. He went down hard.

She grabbed the taser from his belt. She didn't hesitate. She drove it into his neck and pulled the trigger. The crackle of electricity was the only sound in the canyon.

Alys stood up to run, but a sharp sting hit the back of her neck.

Her hand flew to the spot. A dart.

The world tilted sideways for Alys. Her knees turned to water.

Elena stepped out from behind a boulder. She looked impeccable, not a hair out of place, holding a tranquilizer pistol.

"You always were the dramatic one, Alys," Elena said.

The ground rushed up to meet Alys's face.

Alys woke up to the smell of hairspray and fear.

She was in the basement of the Flores estate. She knew the cracks in the ceiling. She knew the damp smell.

"Hold still," a woman snapped.

Alys was being measured. Three stylists swarmed around her, pulling at her limbs like she was a mannequin. They stripped off the dirty hospital gown.

"Look at these scars," one whispered, touching the old cigarette burns on her shoulder-souvenirs from her time in the 'care' facility.

"Cover them," Elena's voice came from the shadows. "Thick foundation. The groom is a cripple, not blind."

Alys sat on the stool, naked and shivering. She didn't speak. She let her eyes go vacant. The 'mute' act was her only shield.

"If she makes a sound at the wedding," Elena said, walking into the light, "pour her mother's ashes down the toilet."

Alys stared at the floor. Her hand drifted to her mouth. She coughed, covering her lips.

In that second, she slid the micro-SIM card she had taped behind her molar out. It was tiny, her only link to the outside world, to Zero. She palmed it and pretended to scratch her ear, slipping the chip into the hollow backing of the heavy pearl earring they had just clipped onto her.

"She's ready," the stylist said.

Elena grabbed Alys's chin, forcing her to look at her.

"You are going to marry Gustaf Greer. You are going to sign over your trust fund to us. And then, you are going to disappear into his estate and never be heard from again. Do you understand?"

Alys blinked once.

"Good."

Elena left. The door locked with a heavy thud.

Alys walked to the mirror. The foundation covered the bruises, but it couldn't hide her eyes. They weren't the eyes of a victim anymore.

She thought about the man in the canyon. The way he fought to stay alive.

Gustaf Greer.

Everyone said he was paralyzed in a skiing accident six months ago. A recluse. A broken man. But that helicopter crash was fresh. The world didn't know about it. He was hiding something much more recent, much more violent.

He wasn't paralyzed.

Alys touched the cold glass of the mirror.

"I'm coming for you, husband," she mouthed.