“How long to identify which?”
“Forty-eight hours, minimum,” Viktor says. “Could be up to a week.”
I make a sound I don’t manage to suppress. Small. Involuntary. Conner’s hand comes up and lands on my shoulder. Solid.
“That’s a long time to be in the hands of the enemy, Parlance,” says Merric.
“I know,” Viktor says. “I understand what I’m asking you to accept. Let me explain why it has to be that long. The mole investigation is ongoing. We have not confirmed the source of the leak that cost us operational security in the last major extraction. Every mission we run in this window is vulnerable to betrayal, which means we have to scrub our intelligence chain for every operation individually. We also have a communications-intercept program running to identify which facility has shown recent activation consistent with a high-value prisoner intake. That program produces results on a predictable timeline. Rushing past it is how we get our people killed.”
“And in the meantime,” I say, “what happens to him?”
Jericho’s voice. “Interrogation. They’ll want information on the corridor operation, on the internal Forrester politics, on any adjacent packs who might be cooperating with him against Syndicate interests.” He operated in the Syndicate system for decades. If anyone knows, it’s him.
“You think they’ll suspect that he’s not the only one moving against them?” asks Brenna.
“Yes,” he confirms. “He’s a significant figure, an alpha who refused them and cost them a supply line. What they extract from him has value beyond him personally.”
“They won’t kill him in forty-eight hours,” Vanya says. “That’s not how they operate with an asset of his profile. They’ll workhim. Push him. But they’ll keep him intact for at least a week. Probably longer.”
Intact. Fuck.
“Unless,” Jericho adds, “leadership makes a decision about public example rather than continued extraction.”
“Who’s leadership right now?” Brenna asks.
“The Ivory League,” says Vanya. “But they wouldn’t get involved in something like this. Alastair Creed still runs ground operations.”
The name lands. I don’t know him by anything more than reputation. High-ranking Syndicate operative. A radical who pushes the agenda for world domination by dragons.
“Creed will evaluate Garrett personally,” Caleb interjects. “He’s been evaluating high-value assets himself since before Roland Vex was taken into Aurora custody. He’s patient. He’s also pragmatic. He won’t waste Garrett in the first week. But if Garrett refuses to cooperate in a way Creed finds satisfactory, the timeline shifts.”
“So forty-eight hours is a reasonable window,” Viktor says. “Not a comfortable one. A reasonable one.”
“And if you’re wrong?” I say.
Silence.
“Then we recover him,” Caleb says. “One way or the other.”
The words are clean. Professional. They drain the blood from me.
“Team assembly,” Viktor says, getting down to the details. “Brenna, you’ll send a Ravenclaw contingent. Aurora will send strike support. We will deploy south. We’ll stage at a forward point closer to the probable facilities — Texas side of the border, somewhere neutral. You drive to us. Our people fly.”
“We’ll use our jet,” says Caleb. “Dorian and I will bring in support from the Craven clan.”
“We’ll have Frostbourne operatives on board,” says Merric.
“Briar goes,” Brenna says. Not asking.
“A bonded mate on the rescue of her captured partner is a liability, Brenna,” Viktor says.
“She’s the best operator we have. And the bond will give us real-time status on the asset once we’re in range. She goes.”
“Acknowledged.” Viktor sounds like he’s going against his better judgment but doesn’t argue.
“We’ll send Merric and me, Rook, Sienna, Conner, and Willow as well,” says Brenna.
“So what does that give us?” Merric asks.