Jude steps into the amber light. He stands tall.
“She is a masterpiece of resilience.” His low baritone carries unwavering certainty.
He does not talk about her body. He does not talk about her curves. He talks about her core. The unbreakable steel hidden beneath the silk.
“The way she looks at that little girl.” Jude pauses. A dark, intense emotion crosses his face and disappears in a fraction of a second. “She carries the weight of this entire corrupt family on her back. She lives in a cage. She is surrounded by monsters. And she has not buckled once.”
Jude meets my stare head-on. He does not flinch.
“That is pure courage,” Jude says softly. “I want to dismantle the cage. I want to show her what safety feels like.”
The confessions hang heavy in the air.
Three lethal operators. Three massive, heavily armed men.
We are compromised.
I pick up my phone. I hit the lock button. The screen goes black.
I shove the device back into my tactical vest. I look down at the blueprints on the tablet. I force my brain back into Commander mode.
“The objective remains the same.” I tap the glowing screen. “We want the Eastern Ridge. We need the master ledger to get it.”
Rafe steps away from the window. “We search the compound tomorrow during the Gala. Dominic will be distracted with his political guests.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “We’ll run a staggered rotation. One of us stays visible at the ballroom doors to keep up appearances, while the other two ghost through the restricted wings. We play our parts. We look like mindless hired muscle while we strip this place of its secrets.”
Jude crosses his arms over his chest. “And Ferraro?”
The name lands like a curse in the quiet room.
I look at my brothers. I see the exact same lethal intent mirrored in their eyes. We do not need a verbal agreement. We do not need to discuss the tactical logistics.
We are here for the Broken Halos. We are here for the ledger. We do not take hostages. We do not run rescue missions for cartel princesses.
But the rules of engagement just changed.
“Tomorrow night, we let Dominic make his speeches,” I command. My voice drops to a lethal, vibrating calm. “We observe the room. We find the ledger. We secure the intel for the club.”
I plant my hands on the table. I lean forward.
“We do not blow our cover until we have the drive.” I look toward the closed mahogany door of her bedroom. My grip tightens on the edge of the glass. “But whatever happens at that Gala tomorrow night, she does not leave with Calix Ferraro. Even if we have to burn this entire compound to the ground to get her out.”
7
JUDE
The digital clock on the bedside table blinks exactly five in the morning.
Darkness smothers the sitting room of the East Wing Suite. The amber streetlamps outside fail to pierce the heavy silk drapes. The air hangs thick and still.
The repetitive motion grounds a hyperactive mind. I slide the whetstone along the dark steel before finishing with the leather strop. The blade is now a surgical instrument, ready for the harvest.
Sleep is a tactical vulnerability. A closed eye is a fatal blind spot. The mission demands constant observation. It demands calculation.
The intelligence from the basement war room loops without mercy.
Midnight.