Page 14 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Oliver

I called the team the second I walked out of the sunroom.

This wasn’t just about Emery anymore.

Someone had orchestrated a clean, calculated abduction of a high-profile American athlete, deleted security footage, and buried a burner phone carrying evidence of a covert arms exchange.

And now we had a partial identity: a man with a scar over his left brow, possibly a former military personnel, with access to restricted facilities and international connections.

Whatever Emery saw? It wasn’t just sensitive.

It was explosive .

The Golden Team gathered in what we now call the war room at nightfall.

The war room was lit, the table stacked with files, laptops, and enough coffee to fuel a platoon. Cyclone was already pulling traffic cam data. Gage leaned over the back of a chair, eyes narrowed. Raven, sitting against the far wall, checked his gear without saying a word.

River stood at the head of the table, talking to Faron. “Alright, boys. What do we know? Has Emery remembered anything else?”

I stepped forward. “Emery opened a burner phone at her training facility a day before her abduction. She says it had a video showing what looked like a handoff between a U.S. military officer and a civilian with a foreign accent. Possibly arms or intel.”

“Time stamp on the video?” Gage asked.

“She doesn’t remember,” I said. “But she does remember this: one of the men watching her had a vertical scar just above his left eyebrow. Bald. Wore sunglasses indoors. Hung around the facility without talking to anyone.”

Cyclone’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Running facial rec off gym entry logs now. Pulling DOD crossover profiles.”

“We think it might be someone from inside,” I said. “Jason Blake agrees. Could be someone former military, maybe even someone tied to an old op he ran.”

“Damn,” Raven muttered. “So this wasn’t random.”

“No,” River said. “This was silencing.”

I nodded. “And it didn’t work.”

Cyclone glanced over. “I’ve got something. Security footage from the gym one day before she vanished—pulled from a traffic camera outside the back exit. One guy matches the description. Scarred face. Civilian clothes. Followed her out, stayed back, disappeared down the alley.”

“Facial match?” I asked.

Cyclone leaned in. “Working on it… got a partial.”

He hit a key and the screen filled with an enhanced image—grainy, but sharp enough.

Raven stood and stared. “I’ve seen that face.”

River narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

“I ran into him last year in Ukraine. He was with a paramilitary group out of Eastern Europe. Called himself Viktor.”

“Last name?” Gage asked.

“Didn’t give one. Just Viktor. Ran black-market ops. Ex-military, fluent in English, ruthless as hell.”

I clenched my jaw. “Think he’s here?”

“He’s hunting, ” River said. “And Emery’s unfinished business.”

I stepped outside, needing air.

The sky was black velvet above Carlsbad, the ocean crashing in the distance. I could still feel Emery’s voice in my head— What if they come for someone else next?

I pulled out my phone and texted her.

Stay inside. Keep the doors locked. We’ve got a name. And it’s not over.

She responded almost instantly.

I figured. I'm not running. Just tell me when it’s time to fight.

Damn, I admired her.

I looked up at the stars and made a silent promise.

They won’t touch her again.

Not while I was breathing.