Victoria gave her a questioning look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Isabel said, smiling faintly. “Just… I don’t know how you do it. The planning. The control. You think through every damned angle before anyone else even sees the board.”
For a heartbeat, the mask on Victoria’s face softened. “It’s my job.”
“No,” Isabel said quietly. “It’s who you are.”
Something passed between them then—something unspoken but heavy with meaning. The kind of look that lingered longer than it should have.
Victoria broke it first, glancing toward the files on her desk. “We’ll move out in ten. The task force is already enroute to the perimeter. I want to be there before Darcy makes contact.”
“Right,” Isabel said, forcing herself back into focus. “You think she’ll suspect anything?”
“She’ll suspect everything,” Victoria replied, grabbing her jacket from the chair. “That’s why we have to be perfect.”
Isabel nodded, following her to the door. Her pulse thrummed with a strange mix of fear and certainty. She didn’t know what would happen tonight—if the sting would hold, if they’d all walk away in one piece—but she knew one thing for sure.
If she was going to face danger again, she trusted no one on earth more than Victoria Langley to have her back.
The warehouse district sat on the edge of the harbor, half-forgotten and half-rotting. Rusted shipping containers stood stacked like tombstones, and the wind off the bay carried the metallic tang of salt and oil.
Isabel sat in the passenger seat of Victoria’s unmarked SUV, her eyes fixed on the small glowing dot moving across the GPS tablet mounted to the dash. Darcy’s car.
“She’s slowing down,” Isabel said quietly.
Victoria’s jaw flexed. “She’s there.”
The tracker’s signal blinked once, then stilled on a stretch of road just ahead. A dead-end lot with no active businesses, no cameras. Perfect for a deal—or a double-cross.
Victoria reached for her radio. “Unit Two, Unit Three—positions confirmed?”
“Unit Two in place, east perimeter,” came the reply.
“Unit Three, west side. Visual on the target’s vehicle.”
“Copy.”
Victoria’s voice never wavered. “Hold until my mark.”
She cut the engine, the SUV settling into silence. The darkness pressed in around them, broken only by the faint blue glow of the tablet. Isabel glanced over and caught Victoria’s reflection in the glass—eyes sharp, expression carved from stone.
“She’s meeting someone,” Isabel murmured.
“Most likely,” Victoria said. “She thinks she’s heading to a ransom exchange. But that’s not what this is.”
“Because there’s no ransom,” Isabel said, the realization hardening her voice. “There never was.”
Victoria gave a short nod. “Exactly. She’s walking right into her own trap.”
They both looked ahead as Darcy’s headlights appeared in the distance, the beam cutting briefly across the cracked pavement before she turned into the lot. She parked near a corrugated steel warehouse—the kind of place no one had used in years.
A few seconds later, another vehicle pulled up. A black van. Two figures stepped out, one tall, one stocky, their movements cautious but efficient.
“Got ‘em,” Isabel whispered. “That’s them.”
Victoria’s hand tightened on the radio. “All units—confirm positions. Do not engage until I give the signal.”
Static crackled back in response.
