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"Jesus," Morgan breathed when Juliaopened the door, taking in the blood, the bruising, the devastation of the apartment. "They did a number on you."

"I'm functional," Julia repeated, already gathering the last of her equipment. "Knox's team was professional. Military background, specialized training. Six operators minimum."

Morgan nodded, conducting her own assessment of the apartment. "Chief Marten's securing a channel outside department infrastructure. SWAT on standby with trusted personnel only."

"No time for official response," Julia said, checking her weapons one final time. "I know where they've taken her."

Morgan's eyebrows rose. "How?"

Julia led her to the bedroom, pointing out the scratched symbol beneath the bed frame. "Ivy left this. It's the abandoned shipyard in district seven. The Seraphim terminal."

"Knox's people would have searched for messages," Morgan said, skepticism coloring her voice.

"They wouldn't have looked here," Juliareplied. "Too subtle, too specific. Ivy knew I'd find it."

Something in her tone must have revealed more than she intended, because Morgan's expression shifted, professional assessment giving way to personal concern.

"Julia," she began, then stopped, recalibrating. "How certain are you about this location?"

"Certain enough to move now." Julia shouldered her tactical bag, already calculating approach vectors and entry points. "Knox's playbook is predictable: secure location, enhanced interrogation, disposal once he has what he needs."

"And what does he need?"

"Everything Ivy knows about his infrastructure acquisition plan. The evidence she hasn't released yet. The connections she's made." Julia's jaw tightened. "And he's on a compressed timeline now that we've destabilized his operation."

Morgan didn't argue further, recognizing the futility. Instead, she shifted to security support. "I've got satellite imagery of the shipyard from department resources. Noobvious activity, but plenty of blind spots in the terminal buildings."

Julia nodded, already moving toward the door. "We need transportation that can't be traced to the department and weapons Knox's people won't be expecting."

"Already handled." Morgan followed, matching her stride. "I've got a civilian vehicle registered to my grandfather, and Chief Marten authorized access to the special weapons locker."

They descended the fire escape instead of using the main stairs, Julia's situational awareness heightened to painful intensity. Every shadow held potential threats. Every passing car might contain Knox's surveillance team. The morning air carried the scent of salt from the harbor, the familiar smell now tainted by failure and fear.

"Talk to me," Morgan said as they reached the alley where she'd parked a nondescript sedan. "What's the play here?"

Julia secured her equipment in the trunk, mind already mapping the shipyard's layout from memory. "Knox will have Ivy in the main terminal building. Windowless, secure, single approach vector. Minimalguards—two at the perimeter, two with the principal."

"That's assuming you're right about the location," Morgan pointed out as they entered the vehicle. "And assuming Knox himself is there."

"He'll be there." Julia's certainty wasn't tactical; it was visceral. "He won't trust this interrogation to subordinates. Not with what Ivy knows about his operation and how much she's already damaged him."

As Morgan navigated through morning traffic, Julia forced herself to breathe through the pain radiating from her temple, ribs, and the deeper wound of failure that threatened to compromise her focus. She'd been trained to compartmentalize, to separate personal feelings from professional duty.

But Ivy Monroe had rewritten those parameters with her very existence. The woman who had entered Julia's life as an anonymous encounter, who had become her protection assignment, who had transformed into her partner, and who had finally breached the walls around her heart—that woman was now in the hands of Phoenix Ridge's most dangerous criminal.

And Julia would tear apart the entire city to get her back.

The satellite phone vibrated with an incoming message from Chief Marten: Trusted team assembling. Hold position for tactical support.

Julia read it and slipped the phone back into her pocket without responding. Protocol demanded waiting for backup, establishing a perimeter, conducting proper surveillance. But Ivy didn't have that kind of time.

"The Chief wants us to wait for backup," Morgan observed, reading Julia's expression. "Standard procedure."

"There's nothing standard about this situation," Julia replied, checking her weapon again. "Knox knows the police department is compromised. He's expecting an official response and preparing for it."

"And?"

"And he's not expecting me." Julia's voice carried an edge Morgan had never heard before.