His expression softens—just barely. A brief flicker of understanding passes through his eyes. “I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else. No teasing. No sharp edge. None of Ronan’s usual bullshit. He knows we’re all wound too tight, one wrong word away from snapping.
Ronan tilts the screen toward us, the glow lighting the inside of the van as the blueprints load piece by piece. The place is bigger than I expected, sprawled like a steel carcass along the shore. Levels, stairwells, choke points. Rooms that could hide a dozen men. Rooms that could hide our girls.
We lean in until our shoulders touch.
For a long moment, no one speaks. We’re studying. Memorizing. Calculating how many ways we could get in and how many ways we might die getting out.
Ronan breaks the silence first, tapping the structural outline on the screen. “There’s one confirmed access point on the basement level, and it’s still our best way in. Large rolling bay door.” His finger traces the perimeter. “If we’re lucky, it’s unsecured. If we’re not, it’s reinforced and guarded.”
He shifts the view, bringing up the ground floor. “There are other entrances topside—service doors, loading access—but those put us in the open. Too many sightlines. Too much exposure. Basement keeps us contained, keeps our angles tight. That’s where we breach.”
Rowan snorts quietly. “They’ll have guards. Dean’s paranoid. And with Bryce gone, he’s probably spiraling.”
My stomach twists, but I force myself to focus. “Let’s go over exit points. If we get separated, we need fallback routes.”
Ronan drags his finger along the blueprint, tagging each point. “Emergency hatch on the west side. Locked from the inside, but easy enough to force if we need a fast exit.” His finger shifts upward. “If we’re forced topside, there’s two upper-level windows we can rappel out, but it puts us in the open.”
He pulls back to show the full structure. “There are other exits on the ground floor—service doors, secondary access points. The basement loading dock is still our breach.” His jaw tightens. “How we get out depends on how it goes inside. Best case, we leave together.” A grim edge slips into his tone. “With the place burning behind us.”
I nod slowly. “Good. Now… where would he keep them?”
The air thickens.
The van feels too small.
Too quiet.
I trace the rooms with my finger, searching for patterns. “He won’t put Berk in anything too open. He expects her to fight. Kimber…” My voice snags, and I clear it. “He’d hide her somewhere enclosed. Back rooms. Offices. Maybe the storage wing.”
Ronan grunts in agreement. “If they’re smart, they’ll keep Berk on the upper floors. Fewer exits. Harder to make a fast break.” His jaw tightens. “Kimber could be with her as bait—easier to control us if they’re in the same room. Or she’s downstairs.” A beat. “Or worse, already moved.”
Worse.
The word rattles me.
Rowan leans forward, jaw tight, eyes red-rimmed from too much grief and too little sleep. “Do you think they’re together or separate?”
I breathe out slowly. “If Dean wants to control the swap, he’ll separate them. He’ll want leverage. He’ll want fear.”
Ronan mutters low under his breath. “He’s the one getting the fucking fear tonight.”
We continue breaking down the layout until the sun shifts in the sky. It feels wrong that the world keeps turning while ours is about to rupture.
We estimate anywhere from six to twelve men inside. Maybe more. Dean always kept extra muscle close. Enough to feel powerful. Not enough to babysit all the loose ends he’s created.
“Three of us,” Rowan says under his breath. “Against however many bastards he’s got.”
“Three of us,” I correct softly, “and one very pissed-off woman who has already outsmarted all of us.”
That earns the smallest, sharpest smiles from my brothers.
Finally, Ronan closes the screen. “Time’s up. We go now.”
We step out of the van together, boots hitting gravel. The pier air is sharp, smelling of salt and diesel, the afternoon wind biting like teeth. I pull my gear tight across my chest, feeling the weight of every weapon, every magazine, every decision that led us here.
For a moment we just stand there, three men who were raised together, broken together, rebuilt together. A lifetime condensed into one inhale.