Marco walked toward Anna, silent and unreadable. He didn’t rush, didn’t speak, didn’t look her in the eye as he crouched beside her, pulled a small pocketknife from his boot, and without hesitation, sliced through the ropes binding her ankles.

Anna winced as the ropes slipped off, leaving her skin red and sore. When he cut the ones around her wrists, the pain surged in, sharper now, no longer dulled by shock. Her hands throbbed with every pulse.

Marco stood and reached for Anna. She ...