I stepped closer to the map spread across the table. The city was marked in neat squares and circles, Hydra’s reach etched in black ink. Supply routes. Safehouses. Contacts bought and paidfor. Hydra wasn’t chasing shadows anymore—we owned the dark corners they thought would protect them.
“They’ll run to ground,” I said. “And when they do, we’ll be waiting. Every door they knock on, every street they cross, every so-called ally they trust—I’ll be there first.”
The men nodded, but I wasn’t finished. I leaned down, pressing my palms against the map until the paper wrinkled under my grip.
“Elara thinks she can hide behind Beckett. She thinks his loyalty makes her untouchable. But loyalty is a leash.” My smile sharpened. “And when I’m finished, she’ll drag him into my hands herself.”
The room was silent, the weight of my promise settling like lead. Then I straightened, smoothing the map with one sweep of my hand.
“Prepare the informants. Place them near the markets, the safehouses, the ports. I want their movements reported before they take their next breath. And when the Team comes for supplies, for information, for help…” I paused, savoring the moment.
“…they’ll find only Hydra.”
The clock on the wall ticked, steady and merciless. A countdown they didn’t even know had started.
50
Beckett
Her words still echoed in my head long after the room went quiet.
They’ll kill anyone who helps me.
The Golden Team had faced cartels, warlords, and mercenaries with smiles sharp as blades—but none of that shook me like hearing Elara admit Hydra’s reach wasn’t just about her. It was global. It was a monster with claws in every corner.
And I didn’t give a damn.
River broke the silence first, shoving a finger at Cyclone’s laptop. “If what she says is true, then Hydra’s files could blow the roof off their entire operation. We need to know exactly what she took.”
“Files,” I repeated, my voice harder than I intended. I looked at Elara, and she didn’t flinch. She sat tall, shoulders squared, eyes burning. “Where are they?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Not here. Not with me.”
Oliver cursed under his breath. “So we’re running blind.”
Cyclone slammed the laptop shut. “Then we find them. If Hydra wants them this bad, it’s only a matter of time before they move heaven and hell to flush her out.”
Every muscle in my body wound tight. I stepped closer to Elara, close enough to smell the grit of smoke still clinging to her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. And that silence—God, it cut worse than a bullet.
“Beckett—” she started.
“No.” My voice dropped to a growl, quiet but sharp. “Out there, I almost lost you. I’ve almost lost you more times than I can count since the day you crashed into my life. And every time, I keep telling myself I can fight harder, move faster, kill quicker. But if you keep hiding things from me—” My chest burned, words scraping raw. “—I can’t protect you from the storm I don’t see coming.”
Her eyes softened, just enough to hurt. “I wasn’t hiding it from you,” she whispered. “I was trying to save you.”
The room fell away. The Team, the maps, the walls—I only saw her. Dust-streaked, bruised, defiant, and still trying to shield me from something too big for one man to fight.
I cupped her chin, forcing her eyes back to mine. “I don’t need saving, Elara. I need the truth. All of it.”
Her breath caught, and for a second, I thought she’d finally give me everything. But then River cleared his throat, shoving a map across the table.
“We don’t have the luxury of waiting. Hydra will push into the city fast. If there are files out there, we need to move before Grand locks down every exit.”
The spell between us broke. I let my hand drop, though the ache in my chest stayed.
“Then we move,” I said. My voice was steady now, steel over the crack threatening beneath. “Tonight.”
