Kael met his gaze instead.
“It means,” Kael said evenly, “that Black Tide are assassins.”
The word hung there, heavy and unashamed.
“We don’t kill for money,” Kael continued.“We kill on contracts that we believe in.We kill when leaving someone alive guarantees more blood.When the math is clear.When the world is safer without them breathing.”
Ethan listened.Really listened.
Niko’s hand slid over his forearm, thumb pressing in once—with you.
“We decide together,” Niko added.“We argue.We vote.And when the line’s crossed, we don’t hesitate.”
Ethan exhaled slowly.
He hadn’t realized until that moment how badly he needed to hear that this wasn’t chaos.That there was structure.Ethics.A line that wasn’t arbitrary.
“Good,” he said quietly.
Several of them blinked.
“Because if I had to choose between mercy and certainty where my father’s concerned,” Ethan continued, voice steady now, “I’d choose certainty.”
Something unreadable passed across Kael’s face.Then he nodded once.
“Digital update,” Luca said, fingers already moving across his tablet.“Gregory entered Vermont two hours ago under a shell identity.He’s airborne now.”
The screen shifted—flight path data, altitude, velocity.
“Filed destination is Kansas City,” Luca continued.“But—”
“But he’s ghosting half the grid,” Marsh cut in over comms.“Transponder behavior says misdirection.Old-school tricks, not Directorate-clean.He’s good.”
“Good,” Luca said dryly.“Not invisible.”
Marsh huffed.“Yeah.He’s trying.He’s just ...not you.”
Ethan barely registered it.
“He’s moving fast,” Luca said.“But he wants you to follow.”
Pathfinders’ channel chimed.
“We’re closer,” Bateman said.“We can intercept.Pull him off the board now.”
Ethan shook his head immediately, the motion sharp enough to make his neck ache.“No.”
Bateman paused.“You sure?”
“If my father thinks this is a trap,” Ethan said, and felt the words settle into something iron-hard inside him, “and he doesn’t see me, he’ll kill Marcus.”
The room went still.
“This isn’t about speed,” Ethan continued.“It’s about control.He needs to believe he still has it.”
Niko’s thumb traced a slow line against his wrist, grounding, steady.
“He needs to see me,” Ethan finished.“In person.”