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He moves closer, tapping in a sequence on the keypad. The light blinks green and the lock disengages with an audible thunk.

"There, now stop raging before you give yourself an aneurysm," Jaxon says dryly, pulling the door open.

I brush past Jaxon without a word, stepping into the wardrobe room and scanning the racks with narrowed eyes. After a few moments, I spot what I need—a slinky black dress with a plunging neckline and thigh-high slit up the side. Skimpy but classy enough to pass for business wear if I accessorize right. Perfect for gaining Cruz's attention without being too obvious about it.

I grab the dress off the rack along with a pair of wicked stilettos and a slim jacket to complete the look. As I turn to leave, Jaxon is watching me with a bemused expression.

"You know, most people say 'thank you' when someone holds a door for them," he comments dryly.

I pause, reining in my anger with an effort. He doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my fury—not this time, at least.

"Thank you, Jaxon," I say evenly, meeting his gaze. "I appreciate you keying me in."

He smirks, clearly recognizing my restraint. "Anytime, darling."

The endearment makes me hesitate, a flicker of memory from last night—Rule's mocking tone as he pinned me down, calling me 'darling' over and over. I push it away, refusing to let my mind linger on the twisted encounter.

"Don't call me that," I say curtly, clutching my newly acquired outfit.

Jaxon arches an eyebrow, amusement playing across his features. "But it's your name," he points out with maddening logic.

For a moment, I freeze, wondering if the reason Rule called me 'darling' so mockingly was simply because it's my name. Jesus fucking christ, what the hell is wrong with me that I'm even analyzing this? Why do I care why that psychotic asshole used a particular term of endearment while he was fingering me?

I grit my teeth, struggling to regain my composure as unbidden flashes of last night flicker through my mind. The weight of Rule's body pinning me down. The rasp of his modulated voice against my skin. The exquisite torment as he worked me to the edge of release, only to cruelly deny me.

Heat blooms low in my belly at the memories, and I ruthlessly shove them away, appalled at my own body's traitorous response. I can't afford to lose focus, not now. Not with so much at stake.

"Thanks for the assist," I force out, the words clipped and terse as I brush past Jaxon toward the door.

He says something else, but I don't catch it, my mind already shifting gears, strategizing for the meeting with Cruz. Rule and Ruin may think they've rattled me, but they're about to learn just how unshakable I can be when properly motivated. Cruz is the key, and nothing—not deranged stalkers or twisted mind games—is going to keep me from exploiting that lead.

By the time I reach the briefing room, I've regained my focus. Jensen, Matteo, and Eli are already gathered around the central table, poring over intel files and surveillance stills. They look up as I enter, and the brief flicker of concern on Jensen's face tells me my chaotic energy is more obvious than I'd like.

"Everything good?" he asks carefully, holding my gaze in that way of his that says he won't accept any bullshit excuses.

I meet his stare levelly, daring him to push further. "Everything's fine. Just ran into a minor delay." My tone makes it clear the topic is closed for discussion.

Eli, ever the one to poke the bear, opens his mouth—no doubt to unleash some wisecrack about my mood. But Matteo cuts him off with a sharp look, his dark eyes assessing me.

"We should go over the plan one more time," he says evenly, dragging our focus back to the mission at hand.

Jensen moves things along before tensions can escalate further. "Right. Cruz is expecting to meet 'Samantha' at his club in"—he glances at his watch—"two hours. The place will be closed, just him and a few of his inner circle."

"Roger that," I confirm briskly, scanning the room to ensure everyone is dialed in. "Jensen, Eli—you two will be stationed nearby providing overwatch and backup in case things go sideways. Keep eyes and ears on Cruz's crew at all times. If anything feels off, you call it."

Jensen nods sharply. "We've got your back."

Eli shoots me a cocky grin, already looking a little too eager at the prospect of potential chaos. "Don't worry, boss. We'll be ready to blow this whole op sky high if your charms don't work their magic on Cruz."

I level a flat stare at him, unamused. "My 'charms' will be more than enough to keep Cruz occupied. But just in case, the PD narcotics team will be on standby two blocks out for rapid deployment if needed."

Matteo remains stoically silent, hands resting on the table as he studies the building schematics with intense focus.

"We go in tight but icy," I continue, tracing my finger along the blueprint. "Cruz is expecting an independent supplier looking to broker a deal, so that's the cover we sell. Hard, dismissive - make him work for any scrap of attention or validation."

I glance up to find Jensen watching me carefully. "Don't overplay it," he cautions in that low, even tone of his. "Cruz is too savvy to fall for over-the-top bravado. Walk the line—enough disinterest to stroke his ego, but not so much that you insult him. That's a very narrow target."

My lips quirk slightly at the hint of concern in his voice. The team knows how easily I can get carried away by the thrill of the game. Sometimes it's like there are two versions of me—the consummate professional DEA agent, and the adrenaline-fueled wild card who loves tempting fate a little too much.