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“One has to be Teresa.” Harlen said like he knew it for a fact. He didn’t. “She’d be the primary contact for sure. She had to be the one to make Marisol into a vamp.”

It made sense, but there was no evidence to etch it in stone. “Four contacts, four potential targets. How do we know which one to pursue first with no clarity on who they are?”

Natasha’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. “We don’t pursue. We wait.”

“For what?” Harlen asked. He was impatient for good reason.

“For them to call her.” I answered, understanding Natasha’s strategy instantly. “They don’t know she’s dead.”

“Precisely.” Natasha confirmed. “Marisol has been missing for less than twenty-four hours. Soon, someone will try to contact her.”

The implications ripple through the room. “We have Marisol’s phone. We have potential direct access to Teresa. We have the bait if we played this right.”

“When she calls, we could arrange a meeting.” Harlen said with excitement, replacing his earlier restlessness. “And set a trap.”

I studied the security monitors again, watching the oblivious humans below. They were dancing and drinking. They were unaware of the predators among them. “It’s risky. Teresa isn’t stupid. She’ll suspect something’s wrong if Marisol suddenly arranges a meeting via text.”

“Maybe not, if we’re careful.” Natasha argued. “Minimal communication. A text message with a location only, like an emergency signal.”

The impromptu plan formed in my mind. “Okay, if we draw her out with Marisol’s phone, then we control the location. It needs to be somewhere we can surround her. Somewhere with no easy way to escape.” I pondered.

Harlen’s posture was transformed completely now. His sluggish lounging facade was abandoned. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on my desk.

“The old brewery.” He suggested. “The one on the west side that you own. Concrete walls, limited exits, no civilians.”

His tactical thinking impressed me. This was a new Harlen. He was focused, strategic, and dangerous.

“We’d need to position our people in advance. Make sure Teresa can’t bring an army.” I added.

“I can have a team ready within the hour.” Natasha said. “Six of our best, armed with the Cripo Glocks.”

This was the endgame I had been working toward since Teresa first threatened Chanel. Since she orchestrated the death of innocents bearing my lover’s name. Victory felt tantalizingly close.

“We have to figure out an opportune time to text Teresa. Let’s proceed carefully.” I cautioned. “We need to?—”

On my desk, Marisol’s cell phone suddenly lit up. The screen displayed a single digit: 1.

Our heads turned toward it. The unexpected interruption halted the beginnings of our strategic planning. Perfect stillness fell on the room as we all stared at the glowing screen. With the identity of the caller being only the number One, we could only hope it was Teresa.

I exchanged a quick glance with Natasha. Her eyes were fixed on the phone. When I looked over at Harlen, he was mimicking Natasha. This unexpected development could destroy our newly concocted plan. But I had to do something. My finger hovered over the answer button, and I felt a spark of reluctance. I had to remind myself that sometimes the best plans are the ones that form in the chaos of the moment. This could be one.

“Answer it.” Harlen hissed.

I pressed the green accept button on the screen. I quickly activated the speaker function with the tap of a finger. “Marisol Lopez’s phone.” I answered in a robotic tone. My voice was deliberately casual.

The silence on the other end lasted three seconds. I counted them while I watched the call timer tick upward on the screen. When Teresa finally spoke, her voice carried that familiar tone I had grown to loathe.

“Put Marisol on the phone.” She demanded without an introduction. “Now.”

I leaned back in my chair, making the leather crackle. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

There was another pause, a shorter one this time. “Zand?” The recognition in her voice shifted and added an edge that wasn’t there before. “What are you doing with Marisol’s phone?”

Harlen’s lips curled into a silent snarl. Natasha circled around my desk, positioning herself closer to the phone as if proximity might help her hear Teresa’s location.

“It came into my possession recently.” I replied, maintaining the conversational tone that I knew would infuriate her. “Along with its previous owner.”

“What have you done with Marisol?” The first sign of uncertainty crept into Teresa’s voice.