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[Message end]

The words cut off mid-sentence,as if she’d been interrupted.

As if someone had found her.

Leo stared at the screen, his heart punching double-time.

They’re coming for me.

Who the hell werethey? MI6? Korolov’s people? Someone else entirely?

He stood there for three long seconds, torn between instinct and protocol. Getting involved would mean crossing lines they’d both held for years—professional distance, operational safety, the fragile boundary between what was allowed and what was personal.

Leo moved.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up his flight booking app as he strode toward the stairs. His fingers flew across the screen, searching for the next available flight to London. There—a red-eye departing in four hours. He booked it without checking the price.

In his bedroom, he threw a suitcase onto the bed. Tactical gear, secure comms, enough clothes for a week. His hands moved on autopilot while his mind spiraled through possibilities, each one darker than the last.

She’d never asked him for anything. That’s what gutted him now. She trusted him—still. Even after everything.

Kat was in trouble. That much was clear.

But what twisted in his gut wasn’t just fear—it was something far more dangerous.

He closed the suitcase.

Whoevertheywere, they’d just made the biggest mistake.

He was going to London.

4

Kat crouched lowerin the rhododendron bush as Victoria Eldridge and her two MI6 agents emerged from Gage’s front door. Sweat trickled down her spine, sticking her shirt to her back. Her shoulders burned from her arms pinned at her back, her wrists numb from the cuffs.

Even from a distance, Eldridge’s face was strained. She squinted as she stepped out in the first light of dawn. At her side, Pierce wore a small butterfly bandage above his right eyebrow, probably hedge-related.

Kat allowed herself a small smile. Served him right. That would teach him to go through women’s underwear drawers looking for top secret files.

The smile slipped. The portable SSD. Where the hell had it come from? Someone had set her up.

But who? And why?

Eldridge barked a final order, then swung into her car. Headlights flared as she executed a tight turn and vanished down the street. Pierce followed moments later.

Her knees were damp from the cool earth and a black beetle crawled over Kat’s hand. She remained motionless.

She counted ten minutes—then one more for good measure.

Her muscles screamed, hair veiling her face. She blew upward but couldn’t clear her vision. Through the damp strands of hair, the street appeared empty.

Now or never.

She burst from the bushes and hurried awkwardly across the road, her legs wobbly after too long crouching. Running normally without her hands free was impossible. Gage’s front door was useless—no way to knock with her hands secured behind her. She veered toward the hedge that separated his front garden from the rear. At the back, she’d be able to see into his kitchen.

She took a run up and dove, but instead of clearing the top, she crashed through, branches scratching her face and arms. She hit the grass on the far side with a dull thud that knocked the air from her lungs.

A dog in the neighboring garden erupted in sharp barks, claws skittering against timber, before a sleepy voice hissed it quiet.