"There's a safe house. East Oakland. They move people through it—girls, mostly." He wipes his palms on his slacks. "I have the address."
"How current?"
"Active as of three days ago. They rotate locations, but this one's been stable. Something about a timeline."
"Timeline for what?"
"I don't know. But something's accelerating. More requests. More urgency." Monroe shakes his head. "Whatever they're building toward, it's soon."
Soon.
"Give us the address." Holloway slides paper across the table.
Monroe writes. Careful federal handwriting. Coordinates that might mean everything.
"This is the location. Rotation scheduled for Friday."
"Four days." Kade takes the paper.
"If you're going in, go before then." Monroe sets the pen down. "And don't tell anyone I gave you this. Not your bosses, not your contacts. Nobody." His voice cracks again. "They have people everywhere."
Holloway glances at the address. "I'll coordinate."
"And my protection?"
"Starts when you walk out with me." Holloway stands. "Let's go. Paperwork."
Monroe rises. Doesn't look at any of us.
The door closes behind them.
Silence fills the room.
Kade sets the paper on the table. "Four days before rotation."
Cole hasn't released my thigh. His grip has loosened slightly, but the tremor is gone. Controlled again. "We prep tomorrow. Full team brief."
"Agreed." Kade reaches for his phone. "Asher and Jax on surveillance. Damian on contingencies."
I stare at Monroe's handwriting. East Oakland. A place where girls are moved through like cargo.
Like Rose.
thirty-three
Cole
Magazine seated, chamber loaded, suppressor threaded tight. The SIG sits in my hand like it's grown there, and I run through the checklist one more time because the checklist is what keeps people breathing. Vest strapped across my chest, spare mag on my left hip, knife I won't need but carry anyway.
The warehouse squats forty yards ahead, corrugated metal gone rust-brown under the streetlights, graffiti sprayed across the loading dock doors. Rust-crusted chains hold the dock platform in place. Diesel exhaust hangs over the staging area, mixing with wet asphalt and the particular smell of San Francisco waterfront at midnight.
"Frost, confirm overwatch." Kade's voice through comms, low and even.
"Overwatch confirmed." Asher, already positioned on the adjacent rooftop. "Four tangos visible through east windows, second floor. Two stationary near the south end, two moving north. Armed based on posture."
"Reaper?"
"South entrance. Ready." Damian.