Page 9

Jensen exhales heavily, frustration carved deep into his typically unreadable expression. “Just smoke and shadows, Seanna. Reyes obliterated every digital record—medical, marital, birth certificates. Even school transcripts vanished overnight. If we didn't know better, I’d swear the asshole was a fucking figment.”

“Indulge me,” I insist sharply, arms crossed tighter, eyes narrowing. “Give me the rundown again, Jensen.”

He sighs again, visibly exhausted by repetition but obediently rattling off the intel he knows I need to hear. “Rumors put Reyes as married, three kids—two sons, one daughter. Eldest son would be pushing thirty by now, groomed from birth to take over daddy’s criminal empire.”

“Daddy’s little monsters,” Eli mutters sarcastically, leaning back lazily in his chair, disdain coloring his tone. “How charming.”

“Unconfirmed,” Matteo reminds softly, pressing fingers against his temple, clearly also at his patience’s end. “Anyone digging close enough gets permanently silenced.”

I glare at the board, frustration nearly boiling over. Reyes leaves nothing but shadows, but even shadows fade eventually. Every kingpin slips. Every criminal fucks up. It's inevitable.

“We don’t drop the family angle,” I mutter defiantly, more to myself than them. “Eventually, they’ll surface. Deals, meetings, appearances—something. We just need to be ready to pounce.”

Jensen nods slowly, thoughtfully. “I’ll lean harder on informants. Someone always cracks under pressure eventually.”

“Careful,” I warn sharply, pinning him with a look. “Push too hard and they'll scatter faster than cockroaches in daylight.”

Eli rocks his chair back dramatically, balancing precariously, the perfect portrait of exaggerated boredom. “No pressure, right?”

I fix him with a narrowed stare, my tone dripping venomous sarcasm. “Bored, Eli? I can happily arrange a cozy desk job filing tax returns if you need entertainment.”

He flashes a cocky, unapologetic grin. “Hard pass, boss. I'm allergic to boredom.”

Matteo smirks, exchanging a knowing glance with Jensen. “Explains a lot.”

I turn back toward the board, barely suppressing a frustrated growl. We're close—I feel it in my bones—but Reyes still has the upper hand. Every day he's free, innocent people suffer, more blood stains his hands.

“We keep pushing,” I declare firmly, steel in my voice as I meet each of their gazes directly. “Every lead, every whisper, everyfuckingbreadcrumb. Reyes will slip eventually—they always do.”

A ripple of determination moves visibly through the team. Eli's chair hits the ground solidly as he straightens, suddenly dead serious.

“When he slips,” Eli promises darkly, voice low and dangerous, “we’ll bury the bastard.”

I step back slightly, forcibly releasing the building tension in my shoulders. Staring at dead-end leads won’t magically conjure some of Reyes’ secrets tonight. We’ve hit our limit, and stubbornness won’t change facts.

“Enough,” I finally sigh, pivoting back to my team. “We’re spinning wheels. Pack it up and go home. Rest tonight, we’ll attack this fresh tomorrow.”

Matteo nods swiftly, already closing his laptop with quiet efficiency. Eli stretches dramatically, his yawn obnoxiously loud and intentionally irritating. Jensen stands slowly, relief briefly softening his stoic mask.

“You too, Seanna,” Jensen warns pointedly, giving me the protective look he reserves for my most reckless moods. “Rest isn’t optional.”

“Yeah, boss,” Eli echoes smugly, grabbing his jacket. “We all know you'll just stand here staring at the board until sunrise otherwise.”

“I’ll leave when I’m damn good and ready,” I retort dryly, but a slight grin betrays my amusement. “Trust me, I’m as done with these dead ends tonight as you.”

Matteo eyes me skeptically but wisely stays silent, packing up quietly. The familiar evening routine offers slight comfort amid the collective frustration.

“Bright and early, boss,” Eli calls cheerfully, mock-saluting as he and Matteo step into the elevator.

Jensen pauses at the door, glancing back briefly. “Call if anything happens.”

“I will,” I promise quietly, waving him off firmly. “Now go.”

As the elevator doors close behind them, I exhale deeply, finally allowing the rigid tension to ease from my frame. The bullpen feels eerily silent, haunted by lingering frustration. Reluctantly, I grab my jacket and keys, knowing my night isn't close to finished yet. The team doesn’t know about my extra obligations to my family’s organization—and it’s safer that way. Secrets layered within secrets, a Darling family tradition.

The bullpen lights flicker off as I step into the elevator alone, descending quietly through the building’s suffocating silence. Uncle Max had better have something worth my fucking time tonight. Because after today, my patience is gone—and god help whoever tests it next.

Chapter 5