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“The main tunnel entrance is beneath the greenhouse,” Z continues, his finger tracing the path on the blueprint. “It leads directly to a hidden door in your father's study. The Collector may know about the tunnel system, but he won't expect us to use it. Not if he believes we're coming through the front.”

“So I'm the distraction,” I conclude. “I walk in through the front door while you three sneak in through the tunnels.”

Talon's jaw tightens. “It's risky. You'll be exposed, vulnerable.”

“I've survived that man before,” I remind them. “I can do it again. Long enough for you to get to Luca.”

Oz studies me, his mind visibly working through scenarios. “You'll need to keep him talking. Stall as long as possible while we navigate the tunnels and locate Luca.”

“That won't be difficult.” The memories of The Collector's fondness for monologuing flashing through my mind. “He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Z moves closer, his expression grave. “If anything goes wrong, if you feel threatened in any way, you give us the signal.”

Talon moves to a leather case on the coffee table, opening it to reveal a small black device. “This is one of Alex's designs. It's a subdermal tracker and panic button in one.”

My stomach twists at the sight of it, another piece of Alex's brilliance that would live on without him. “Subdermal?”

“It needs to go under your skin,” Oz explains, his expression apologetic. “The Collector will search you for electronics. This is the only way to ensure he won't find it.”

I stare at the tiny device, no larger than a grain of rice. “Where?”

“Upper arm,” Z answers. “Easy to access, but not somewhere he's likely to check closely.”

“Do it,” I say, already rolling up my sleeve. “Now.”

Talon hesitates, glancing at the twins. “It will hurt.”

“Everything hurts,” I reply simply. “This one is just pain with a purpose.”

Z retrieves a medical kit from beneath the sink. He returns to my side, setting the kit on the coffee table and extracting a sealed package containing what looks like a syringe with an unusually thick needle.

“This was developed for covert operatives,” Oz explains, watching as Z prepares the area on my upper arm with an alcohol swab. The cold sensation makes me shiver. “Alex modified it to include both tracking and emergency signal capabilities.”

I clench my jaw at the mention of his name again. “Will I be able to feel it?”

“After the initial insertion, no,” Z answers, his fingers gentle against my skin as he identifies the ideal placement. “The casing is biocompatible. Your body won't reject it.”

Talon moves to my other side, offering me his good hand. I take it as Z positions the injector against my arm.

“Deep breath,” Z declares. “On three. One...two...”

The pain is sharp and immediate, a burning sensation that radiates outward from the injection site. I bite down hard on my lower lip, refusing to make a sound as the device slips beneath my skin. Z removes the injector and immediately applies pressure to the tiny wound.

“Done,” he says, reaching for a small adhesive bandage. “The signal is already active.”

Talon squeezes my hand before releasing it. “The tracker has a battery life of approximately forty-eight hours. More than enough time for what we need to do.”

I flex my arm experimentally, feeling only a slight tenderness where the device now sits beneath my skin. “How does the panic button work?”

“Press here,” Oz demonstrates on his own arm, indicating a spot about an inch above where Z inserted the tracker. “Hard pressure for three seconds activates the emergency signal. We'll all receive the alert immediately.”

I nod, committing the location to memory. “And if I can't reach it?”

The three men exchange glances, the unspoken worry hanging heavy between them.

“Let's make sure it doesn't come to that,” Talon says finally, his jaw tight with determination.

Z returns the medical supplies to their case. “We should go over the timing. Every second will count once we're on the property.”