On the screen is a grainy zoom of a man stepping out from behind a stack of shipping pallets. Nervous. Twitchy. Head on a swivel. Even in the low resolution, with the pixel blur, that smug, cowardly smirk is unmistakable.
Bryce Blackthorne.
Alive.
Moving.
Watching his back.
“Motherfucker,” Emerson breathes.
Heat floods my veins like gasoline hitting flame.
“There you are,” I whisper, leaning closer, staring into the washed-out image like I can reach through the screen and wrap my fingers around his throat. “Come out and play for me, Bryce.”
Behind me, the guys go still in that dangerous way predators do before a kill.
“It’s confirmed then. The pickups were for Bryce.” Emerson’s voice is rough, almost a growl, as he stares at the paused, grainy footage. Bryce’s face is frozen mid-scan, eyes darting, paranoid and twitchy.
I nod slowly, though my mind is miles ahead. I wish we’d grabbed the damn package. Knowing what’s inside could be the difference between a clean rescue and a massacre. But picking it up would’ve blown everything we’ve spent days building. Bryce would smell us coming like rot in the air and disappear into whatever hole he crawled out of.
Before I can spiral, my attention snags on Rowan.
He stands near the far wall under the dim glow of the desk lamp, arms crossed over his chest, tattoos rippling over hard muscle with every irritated inhale. His stare pins me as if he can see every reckless thought sprinting in my skull. When his lips tilt just a fraction, smug and knowing, I realize I’ve been staring too long.
Cocky bastard. Sexy bastard. Both truths live in the same sentence.
“What’s next?” Rowan asks, eyes fixed on me even though he addresses everyone. “When do we move?”
His tone is steady, almost casual, but I can feel the tension threading through him like barbed wire. Everyone turns to me. My guys always give me the space to lead the hunt, even when they hate what I’m about to say.
I inhale deeply. “I think we move tonight. As in now.”
Silence hits the room like a dropped blade.
Ronan’s brows slam together. Emerson’s mouth opens, then closes. Rowan’s eyes darken in that way that promises a fight he isn’t sure he wants to win.
“I know,” I say before the objections can land. “I know we don’t have every piece yet. I know it’s fast. But the timing is right.” I gesture to the clock. “It’s past the witching hour. Wejust took Riker off the board, and they may not have clocked his absence yet. They don’t know what we’ve uncovered. This is the gap.” I meet their eyes, one by one. “It’s late. He’s either asleep or spiraling in his own head. If we wait until morning, the panic will hit when he realizes one of his people is gone. He’ll disappear the second that adrenaline kicks in. Right now, works in our favor.”
Ronan rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re not wrong,” he mutters. “But fuck, Pix, going in blind is how people die.”
Rowan nods once, sharp. “We don’t know the layout or how many people are inside. We don’t know if it’s a trap. Bryce is a rat—but he’s not stupid.”
“Can’t we trace more cameras?” Emerson asks. “Any traffic near the warehouse? Shipment manifests? Anything?”
I shift my weight against the desk and push away the tremor in my chest. “We can try. But even if we get scraps, it won’t be enough to give us a clean blueprint.” My fingers tap the edge of the desk. “But we don’t need perfect. We need fast.”
They all look at me again, and I feel the weight of what I’m asking them to risk. Kimber is somewhere in the dark, alone and terrified. I know that feeling too well. The memory sits in me like a hot coal I can’t swallow or spit out.
“Look,” I say, my voice dropping—quieter, sharper. “If we get Bryce, we get Kimber. Even if she’s not there, he’ll know where she is. And every hour we hesitate is another hour she may not survive.”
The tension in the room thickens. Ronan exhales hard through his nose. “You’re right,” he admits quietly. “I fucking hate it. But you’re right.”
Rowan looks between us, his jaw tightening, and I know it’s tearing him apart. He wants to protect me. Wants to keep me clear of anything that echoes the past. He saw that video ofwhat Bryce and Dean did to me. It broke a part of him that hasn’t settled since.
Still, he steps closer.
“I don’t like going in blind,” he says. “But I like the idea of losing Kimber even less.”