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Kat raised her palms, keeping her voice calm. “I’m unarmed.”

The second man approached, his pat-down quick but thorough. She fixed her gaze on the ceiling, forcing her muscles to stay relaxed. Every passing second was intel—their movements, their equipment. All pieces of the puzzle.

“Clear.” A gun jabbed in her back. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Okay. Okay.” She climbed the stairs to the sixth floor, the gun’s pressure steering her movements.

At the landing, another prod. “Through that door.”

She stepped onto the sixth floor of Hudson Financial. The lobby was deserted, Christmas decorations creating a surreal backdrop. Her mouth tasted bitter. She’d never look at tinsel the same way again—assuming she lived that long.

“Over there.” A shove directed her toward the glass doors. Beyond them lay an open-plan office. Circles of blond wood desks and silent computer stations, their screens still glowing with abandoned work.

The blinds were drawn tight, preventing any surveillance drones from peeking in. A woman’s quiet sobbing drew her attention. In the far corner, a group of staff huddled on the floor, hands bound with plastic ties. Kat counted heads, her teeth pressed hard together. Six civilians.Six complications.

She let her gaze slide over their captor’s weapons. Standard-issue Glocks. Modified SIG Sauers. The casual way they handled the guns suggested military, even though their stance reeked of private sector arrogance.

Two masked men towered over the restrained employees, several of whom were quietly weeping. A third stalked toward her, the ledge of his forehead protruding above deep-set eyes.Burke.

She held out her hand. “Kat Landon.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Burke’s breath reeked of cigars as he invaded her space.

“MI6.”

A derisive laugh echoed from one man guarding the hostages. “They sent a fucking woman?”

“I can show—” She reached for her vest.

“Whoa.” Cold metal pressed against her wrist from the nearest guard. “Nice and easy now, love.”

She withdrew her ID with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact with Burke.

He studied her credentials, then sniffed loudly. “She’s kosher.”

She lowered her gaze. The hostages’ zip ties were standard police issue—breakable at the catch point.

Rough fingers grazed her ear, yanking out her earpiece. Burke crushed it under his boot with unnecessary force. “Won’t be needing that, sweetheart.”

Kat let her gaze graze the floor. She’d show them soon enough what she was made of.

Burke crowded her, his wet wool and tobacco stench choking her. His breath was hot against her face. “You’re here to bid on behalf of the UK government?”

“I’m here to negotiate.” Kat kept her voice steady despite the gun digging into her sternum. “The British government wants to ensure theNightwatchmanstays secure. We can prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”

Burke’s lip curled. “Five hundred million sterling. Non-negotiable.”

She scratched her ear. Without Leo’s voice, the room felt more claustrophobic. Sealed off from the world.

“Movement.” The guard at the window shifted, gun barrel pushing back the blinds. “Three o’clock.”

Burke’s weapon snapped up, pressing hard under her jaw. The metal was cold, but his voice was colder. “If this is one of your MI6 games?—”

“There’s no game.” She tried to swallow against the pressure. Leo wouldn’t risk a tactical error, not with hostages. Something else was happening. “I came alone. Just like you asked.”

The muzzle dug deeper. “For your sake, you better be right.”

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