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I’m trying to stay useful, which mostly looks like pacing and making more coffee. Every time I stop moving, feelings of doom roll in. I’m not cut out for waiting. Especially not like this.

Boone finishes his call and grunts. “Davis says he’s got eyes in the city. One of the clubs we tagged is still active under a shell name. Might be where they’re funneling info.”

Jonah nods once, calm as ever. “Gunner already confirmed the staff roster. No direct ties, but there’s a cleaner registered through a fake name that pings on the old ID system.”

I pour more coffee just to keep my hands busy. “So, what—you think she’s being held near there?”

“No. They’ll have her somewhere secure where they can keep up appearances.”

Jonah glances over. “I’ve got a contact in logistics who can cross-check the property records. If they moved her through any of the real estate we’ve mapped, we’ll find it.”

They talk like this for hours—efficient, lethal, strategic. Watching them is both awe-inspiring and a little terrifying. Every phone call, every encrypted message they send or receive, gets logged in a spiral notebook with Boone’s tight block letters. Names. Numbers. Codes. Routes.

They’re not grieving anymore. They’re hunting.

One of the calls comes in and Boone has it on speaker. He barely grunts out a greeting before the person on the other end says the following words: “You need her back, or you need them gone?”

Boone doesn’t hesitate. “Both.” There’s a couple other exchanges between Boone and the man that I don’t understand and then Boone hangs up.

I clear my throat and look at Jonah. “Are we calling in a strike team, or what?”

Boone answers my question before Jonah has a chance to. “Not yet. This needs to be quiet until we can move.”

“What does that mean?”

Jonah answers. “It means no explosions. No bullets. Not until we’re certain we can keep her safe.”

Right. Of course. Safe first. Kill later.

I rub my eyes and sit on the edge of the table. “We’ll find her.”

Neither of them responds, but I see it in their faces.

She left to protect us. But we were built for this. Boone with his ruthless efficiency, Jonah with his quiet rage, and me—well, I’m still figuring out my part. But I know one thing for certain.

She doesn’t belong to them.

She’s ours.

And we’re going to get her back. Or die trying.

Later that day, we have blueprints and satellite images spread edge to edge on the table.

Boone points to a long driveway, nearly a quarter mile of paved road hidden beneath tree cover. “This is the only vehicle approach. Two cameras here and here.”

Jonah nods and slides a second sheet overtop. It’s grainier but it shows the inside of the perimeter. “Main residence sits here. Staff quarters in back. Six security personnel, minimum. The rotation looks tight and well organized.”

I try to keep my breathing even, but it’s hard to do when all I can picture is Ani inside that place. Contained. It makes me want to kill someone.

Jonah’s still talking, listing off details like a man used to planning for war. I don’t know how he stays so calm. Boone’s the one taking point on logistics, but Jonah is the backbone here. Steel in his spine, ice in his veins. I catch him clenching and unclenching his fists every time one of us says her name. That’s the only way I know he’s hanging on by a thread.

They don’t need my help for this part. I’m not trained like they are. But I stay close. I watch. I listen. I take it in, because if anything goes wrong, I need to know what to do.

Boone slides a burner phone across the table. “We’ll keep lines quiet until we breach. After that, no rules.”

I nod. I don’t trust my voice.

“We can come in from the north,” Boone says. “The trees give good cover.”