Page 5

Leo allowed the rental’s engine to idle as he studied the Georgian terrace faced in honey-colored brick, each course still darkened by night rain. Barely any sleep and a straight hop from Oslo throbbed behind his eyes, but adrenaline held him steady.

Her desperate message—They’re coming for me—had carved itself into his mind during the flight, playing on an endless loop.

Kat lived here.

The question drew heat between his shoulder blades. If they had come for Kat, he needed to know why—now.

The sense of wrongness thickened as he cut the engine and crossed the road at an easy clip, boots crunching on gravel. No curtains twitched, no early morning radio leaked through neighboring windows. Good. He breathed in the cold, rain-clean air, letting it settle his pulse.

Low, professional voices drifted from the hall and cut off the moment his knuckles met the frame.

He waited, scanning Kat’s garden. Rounded hydrangeas, bobbing calendulas, and love in a mist. The plants were well-tended. Did Kat like gardening? How could he know so little about the woman who dominated his thoughts?

Measured footsteps approached.

His attention snapped back to the door.A woman appeared in the hallway. Mid-forties, her lean build suggested regular fitness training. Her eyes were faded blue as if life had leached the color from them.She wore a black belted trench coat, the right side hanging slightly heavier than the left.

Concealed holster, standard issue.

Her eyes flicked over him, mirroring his rapid head-to-toe assessment. A skinny tabby cat darted past her and bolted into the garden, disappearing beneath a battered-looking hedge.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s tone was professionally neutral, but she adjusted her posture, right hand closing to her side.

“I’m looking for Katarina Landon.” Leo kept his voice even, his own hands visible and relaxed. Two more figures moved in the gloom behind her—additional personnel, probably armed.

Her pupils contracted in the washed out blue. “Landon’s not here right now.”

No denial of knowing Kat—which meant they’d found something. Leo raised his eyebrows, letting calculated confusion color his voice. “And you are?”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t think I can help you. You should leave now.”

She reached for the door handle, but Leo’s foot slid forward, wedging into the gap. The heavy door bounced against his boot leather with a dull thud.

“I’m looking for Kat. Where is she?” Leo maintained his calm tone, though he tensed in readiness.

Movement in the hallway beyond her.

A man with a military haircut and broad shoulders stepped into view, a butterfly bandage above one eyebrow, its white stark against his flushed skin.

Behind him, a woman with a clinical haircut and gray suit emerged, the slight bulge of a shoulder holster beneath her jacket.

She had the bearing of senior command. Not a routine inquiry.

Three operatives. Professional positioning.

Automatically, he catalogued exits—front door blocked, side return likely monitored, neighbors too close for a messy extraction. A hairline crack spider-webbed across the door’s glass panel near the handle.

His skin prickled with uneasy awareness.The pieces were assembling into a picture he didn’t like. The butterfly bandage on the heavy—fresh injury. Cracked glass on the door.

They’d come for Kat, and she’d fought back.

Had she gotten away?

The lead woman’s hand drifted closer to her weapon. “Sir, I’m going to ask you to step back from the door.”

“Of course.” Leo filed away every detail of their faces. “My mistake.” He withdrew his foot.

Her posture softened. “Actually, sir—we’re trying to locate Ms. Landon’s current whereabouts. Any information you might have would be helpful.”

There it was. Confirmation. They’d lost her.

Kat had given them the slip, and now they were fishing. Which meant she was out there, alone, with whatever resources she could muster.

He had two choices. Push for information, and risk exposure, or play ignorant and maintain operational security. The tactical choice was obvious—these people had already underestimated Kat once. Let them keep doing it.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you.” His voice carried just the right note of disappointed confusion. “I was hoping to surprise her for lunch. Haven’t spoken to her in weeks.”

The woman’s pale eyes narrowed, searching his face for tells. Let her look. He’d been lying to hostile interrogators since before she’d made sergeant.

“If you hear from her,” the woman said. “You should encourage her to contact us immediately. For her own safety.”

For her own safety. Christ . “Of course. Is there... should I be concerned about something?”

The woman frowned. “And you are?”

“Just a friend,” Leo gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder, turning to walk away. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, to demand answers, to make them tell him what they’d done to drive Kat into the night. But Kat needed him functional, not in custody.

“Wait—”

Leo’s shoulders tensed. He turned back, eyebrows raised in polite inquiry.

The other woman now approached, pulling a business card from the inside of her suit. “If you hear from Ms. Landon...” Her eyes held his as she extended the card.

Leo accepted it with just the right amount of civilian concern. “Is Kat in some kind of trouble? Should I be worried?”

“We’re simply trying to locate her for a routine matter. Nothing to concern yourself with.” The woman’s smile never reached her eyes. “But if she reaches out...”

“Of course.” Leo glanced at the card—Victoria Eldridge, SIS Internal Oversight Division.

Fuck.

“I hope she’s all right.”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.” The dismissal was clear.

Leo pocketed the card and nodded. “Well, if there’s nothing else...”

Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel.

Back in his car, he pulled the door shut, the solid thunk providing momentary security. SIS Internal Oversight Division. Not just any MI6 operation. The people who investigated their own.

Eldridge remained on the sidewalk, her posture rigid as she stared directly at his vehicle.

Hi. Make sure you get all the numbers down.

Zak had arranged the rental through a shell company—a dead end that would only waste her time. Her face pinched, and then she showed him her back.

Leo’s mind raced as he started the engine. Internal Oversight didn’t mobilize for routine matters. They handled corruption, treason, and security breaches at the highest levels. Whatever Kat had stumbled into—or been framed for—was big enough to bring the wolves to her door.

The cracked glass. The agent’s injury. She’d fought them and escaped, but where the hell could she go? Her house was blown, her workplace compromised.

She was alone out there.

The thought made his rib cage lock. Kat was brilliant, trained, capable—but she was also emotionally isolated by design. MI6 taught their people not to trust, not to build the networks that could save them when the institution turned against them.

He peeled away from the curb and into the flow of traffic.

Once he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he reached for his phone and pressed the connection to his brother in Norway, his hands steadier than his pulse.

“Leo, update?” Zak’s voice carried the gruffness of interrupted work, the tap of computer keys audible in the background.

Leo checked his mirrors, changing lanes to pass a slow-moving bus. “Kat’s missing. MI6 raided her house—she escaped, but they’re hunting her.”

The keyboard sounds stopped immediately. “Fuck. What do you need?”

“Everything. Full background sweep—family, friends, safe houses, old training contacts. Financial records, credit cards, phone activity. I need to know every bolt-hole she might run to.”

Leo’s voice sharpened with urgency. “And run a deep profile on a Victoria Eldridge, SIS Internal Oversight, MI6. I want to know who she’s working with and why they want Kat badly enough to come for her personally.”

“How deep do you want me to go?”

“Burn whatever favors you need to. This isn’t a consultation anymore—it’s a full operational priority.” Leo’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Kat reached out to me for a reason. She’s in the wind with no backup, and if Oversight is involved, she’s running out of time.”