We all go quiet for a moment, the reality of it settling in. Trina played the long game and none of us saw it coming.
Dmitri clears his throat. “So how do we track her? They’ll swap out the rig for another vehicle once they’re clear of the city. If she’s buying loyalty, someone will have to brag, or someone’s phone will light up where it shouldn’t.”
“We lock down movement without making noise. Airports, bridges, tunnels. Nothing stops, but everything is watched. Rostov and Lev slice up the map, Midtown to the river, West Side, too. Everyone else pushes coverage through Brooklyn and Queens. If they see the ambulance or a swap, they trail it. No cowboy work. Teresa comes home clean and safe.”
Nika’s fingers fly over her tablet. “Already flagging all CCTV within a one hour radius.
“Good,” I say. “Socials too—people film everything these days. If the fake rig got caught in the background of somebody’s video, we’ll find it.”
“What about phones?” Dmitri asks.
“Her personal’s dead,” Nika responds. “Last ping was here. I’m pulling tower dumps for new devices that left at the exact time the rig did. If they’re running a booster inside, we’ll see a trail.”
I lean both hands on my desk. “If Trina’s behind this, she thinks she’s already won. That arrogance is how we find her. She’ll want us to know, eventually. Until then, we watch every road out of this city. Stay vigilant.”
Mikhail and Kostya are still statues. I pin them with a look. “You’re repurposed. Kostya, you sit your ass with Nika. If she says jump, you ask how high on the way up. Mikhail, you’re on grunt work. Stick close in case I need an extra gun.”
“Yes, boss,” they say in unison.
She took her bag. She hid her phone under a cushion and let herself be wheeled past my men strapped to a lie.
Why, kotenok?
Dmitri taps my shoulder.
“Time to go.”
CHAPTER 36
TERESA
“Easy, sis. Just relax.”
I’m still strapped to the gurney in the back of the ambulance, blanket thrown over my legs, the ceiling lights washing everything in a sterile glow. Jack sits on the bench in a paramedic jacket, dark hair stuffed under a cap, stethoscope looped around his neck.He looks official.
The siren warbles once, twice, then drops to a low, steady wail as we slide through intersections, traffic peeling open in front of us.
“Almost there,” Jack says. He glances at me, then quickly looks away. “You’re okay. You did good.”
“Where’s ‘there’?” My voice sounds raspy. I swallow. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace private.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He gives me a quick smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re safe, T.”
Safe. The word lands wrong. The ride is too smooth. I fumble for my bearings like a drunk trying to find something in her purse. The ambulance turns down a wide avenue lined with leafless trees and old stone townhouses.
“This doesn’t look like Queens. I don’t get it. Where are we going?”
“Just sit and relax. We’ll be there soon.” Jack pats my knee through the blanket. “Breathe.”
My jaw tightens. “Don’t pat me.”
He pulls his hand back and sighs.
The driver doesn’t speak. He takes another turn, then a long, curvy one. Buildings thin. Trees thicken. The world is quieter. The city’s bustle is long behind us. We pass a little gatehouse with no guard and roll onto a road flanked by snow-covered hedges and iron lamps that look straight out of a Dickens novel.
