Page 15

I nod, feeling the pieces start to click into place. “Exactly. And look here,” I trace a path with my finger. “This loop. It’s unnecessary, unless…”
“Unless they’re checking for tails,” Jenny finishes, a note of grudging admiration in her voice. “Smart.”
Brett whistles low. “These bastards know what they’re doing.”
Jon nods, his expression dour. “Makes you wonder how long they’ve been operating under the radar.”
Charlie, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet, speaks up. “But if we know their pattern now, can’t we predict where they might go next?”
Before I can respond, Mitzy’s voice cuts through our discussion, high and excited. “I’ve got something. Facial recognition just pinged on one of the kidnappers.”
We crowd around her station, the cramped space filling with the scent of sweat and anticipation. A grainy image fills the screen—a man exiting the van, face partially obscured. Behind him looms the skeletal structure of what looks like an abandoned factory, its broken windows gaping like empty eye sockets.
“Meet Boyton Farmer,” Mitzy says, her fingers flying as she pulls up additional information. “No name, but he’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Mostly muscle-for-hire stuff.”
“Can you track him?” I lean in so close.
She shakes her head, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders. “Lost him after this. But,” her eyes gleam with triumph, “I know where this photo was taken.”
The map shifts, zooming in on a decrepit section of the city. The satellite image shows a maze of abandoned buildings and overgrown lots, a forgotten corner of the urban landscape.
Mac whistles low, the sound sharp in the tense silence. “That’s not friendly territory. Night Pack’s got that place locked down tight. Booby traps, lookouts, the works.”
Jenny’s brow furrows, deep lines etching themselves into her forehead. “It’s risky. We go in there half-cocked, we could lose everything.”
I study the map, mind racing through scenarios. It’s dangerous, yes. But it’s also our best lead. The taste of stale coffee lingers on my tongue as I weigh our options.
“We don’t have a choice.” My voice sounds hollow in my ears. “Time’s running out for Aria and Ember. We need to move.”
Jenny nods with a slight hesitation. “Alright. But we do this smart. Mitzy, I want every scrap of intel you can find on that area. Mac, reach out to your contacts again. See if anyone knows about recent Night Pack activity there.”
I return to the map, studying the twisted streets and abandoned buildings. Somewhere in that urban maze, Aria and Ember are waiting. Counting on us. The weight of their lives settles on my shoulders, a familiar burden that never gets easier to bear.
The next few hours are a flurry of activity. Mitzy’s fingers never stop moving, coaxing information from the depths of the digital world. Mac’s voice is a constant low rumble as he workshis contacts, calling in favors and making promises we all hope we can keep.
I find myself drawn back to Ember’s file. Something about her story nags at me. A life lived on the edges, always one step ahead of disaster. I can’t help but admire her resilience.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Charlie’s voice breaks through my concentration. She perches on the edge of my desk, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. She extends one toward me. The scent is rich and inviting.
I accept the cup gratefully, the warmth seeping into my fingers. “Just trying to put the pieces together.”
She nods, her usual bubbly demeanor subdued. “It’s a mess, isn’t it? Poor girls must be terrified.”
“Yeah,” I agree, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect—strong and black, just the way I like it. “But they’re survivors. Both of them.”
Charlie leans back, her eyes softening as she studies me. “You see yourself in them, don’t you? In Ember, especially.”
I shrug, the familiar discomfort creeping in. She always reads me too easily.
“Maybe.” Memories of my youth flash briefly—the cold streets, the lies that got me into the Navy when I was just a kid. “Grew up scraping for every inch, just like her. Doesn’t matter, though. What matters is getting them out.”
“We will. You’ll see.” Charlie squeezes my shoulder, her touch lingering for just a moment.
She’s right, but it’s more than that. The weight of that shared past isn’t just something that connects me to Ember—it’s what drives me. I see the same fight in Ember that I had back then, the same stubborn refusal to break no matter how bad things get.
Growing up on the streets, I learned early that no one was coming to save me. It was either adapt, fight, or fadeinto the shadows. Ember’s got that same fire, that same quiet desperation to survive, and that hits something deep inside me.
It’s more than just getting her out—it’s about protecting her from the life I escaped. I know what happens to people like her when the world forgets them, and I’ll be damned if I let her slip through the cracks.