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“Why would Eldridge be involved?” Griff asked.

“I don’t know.” She tapped the screen. “But the answers are there.”

Leo’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. The weight of it calmed her.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

She made eye contact with the team. “Nightshade needs to be shut down at its source. Before the signal goes live.”

“Transport’s covered.” Fox already had his phone out. “Private airfield, Essex. We can be wheels up in three hours.”

“Gear?” Gage’s voice, clipped and calm.

“En route,” Eli answered, not missing a beat.

The room shifted into motion—no hesitation, no talk of jurisdiction, no one asking permission.

Her eyes met Leo’s.

Something sparked in her chest—fierce and bright.

But this wasn’t the moment to name it. Not yet.

Not when there was a war to end.

Whatever was coming, she wouldn’t face it alone.

And this time, she was ready.

39

The Cessna droppedthrough a violent pocket of air, jolting Leo’s spine against the seat. After the long-haul jet from England, this last leg in a glorified sardine can felt like penance.

Kat had escaped the UK without a ripple. Brock had handled the exit—new identity, clean passport, and a digital shadow scrubbed clean enough to fool Interpol. She sat beside him now, tension evident in the set of her shoulders as his team faced one another in two tight rows.

Her brother, Gage, was silent in the corner, flicking through local intel on his combat tablet. Still officially grumpy, but committed. For now, a truce.

Across from him, Zak had nodded off mid-turbulence, head tipped back. Griff sat beside Zak, checking the loadout schematic, boots braced wide.

Fox sat nearby, cleaning his modified SIG. Across from him, Abe worked a protein bar one-handed while scrolling through weather data on his tablet.

Eli hunched over his laptop, the blue glow casting shadows across his frown.

“Leo.” Eli turned the screen. “Satellite pass from thirty minutes ago. They’ve doubled security since yesterday.”

“They know we’re coming?” A knot twisted at the base of Leo’s skull.

Eli’s head clipped once. “They’ve reinforced our primary insertion point.”

“Alternatives?” Leo worked a hand over the back of his neck.

“Southern approach, through the reef break.” Eli turned the device back toward himself. “Minimal patrols because it’s technically suicidal.”

Leo exhaled. “We adjust. Southern approach, full stealth.”

Fox grinned without looking up from his SIG. “Almost dying on the landing? Might be just what we need. Gets the nerves out early.”

Griff lifted a brow. “Admit it—you’d be disappointed if wedidn’talmost die on arrival.”