I flailed, desperate. “I have the footage. The week before she was taken. There was a man who paid large for her. But the video footage was blurred. We got one shot from the main floor. But it’s just a face.”
He dropped me. I collapsed onto the carpet, gasping.
Maltraz knelt beside me, his face a mask of rage. “Show me.”
I staggered to my feet and led him down the hall to the surveillance room. The wall was a mosaic of monitors, all blank except for one, playing a loop of the alley behind the club. I cued up the footage, hands shaking.
“This is the last sighting,” I said, voice hoarse.
The video showed Harper walking to the truck behind Rage. He rounded the truck. When she grabbed the door handle, she vanished. Then another monitor showed two weeks before when a man paid for her in a VIP room. Before the video blurred, there was a second his face was clear.
Maltraz leaned in, nose inches from the screen. His eyes glowed brighter, casting a red light over the keyboard.
“That’s the only good frame,” I said. “Everything else is static. But the way he moved—military, for sure. Special ops, maybe.”
Maltraz was silent for a full minute. Then he smiled wide and terrible, showing every tooth in his head.
“Arsenal,” he said, savoring the word. “Iron Valor Pack.”
The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Iron Valor. The pack we’d crossed a few months ago, when we’d paid back a debt to Verdant Hollow by allowing them to use Morgantown in some messed up shit against Iron Valor.
Maltraz turned to me, his expression flat. “Sorry Waylon. Our little slave is off the table.”
I shook my head, not trusting my mouth to work.
“The Council is watching me when it comes to Iron Valor. It means I cannot touch her or them, at least for now.” He flickeda claw at the screen. “She is off the table. Unless something changes.”
I swallowed, my mind racing. “You want me to let it go?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. I want you to find something better. Something more valuable. The sister, perhaps.”
I tried to hide my relief. “We have a line on her. Paris. We don’t have an exact location, but we’re close.”
Maltraz’s mood changed instantly. The monster faded, replaced by a slick, predatory calm. “That’s different,” he said, voice almost playful. “As long as she’s not in Iron Valor hands, she’s fair game.”
He clapped me on the back, hard enough to rattle my bones. “You usually deliver, Waylon. Don’t disappoint me again. And if you ever lie to me again, it will be the last time.”
I nodded, already plotting the next move.
Maltraz left the surveillance room with a swirl of sulfur and smoke. The air cleared, and I was alone, staring at the frozen image of the man who’d cost me my prize.
Arsenal. That son of a bitch. I called Leo in. “Pull a file on Arsenal from the Iron Valor Pack.”
He had it in my hands in less than an hour. I scrolled through every detail: ex-military, owns a gun shop, Iron Valor’s Sergeant at Arms. The kind of guy who’d cut your throat and eat a sandwich while you bled out.
I stared at his photo, memorizing every line.
The game had changed, but I was still in it.
Tonight, I’d lost a pawn. Next time, I’d take the queen.
“Prep the Paris team,” I said. “We’re moving on Lawson’s sister.”
Leo didn’t ask questions. “ETA?”
“I want to move on this within the week. I want her on a plane as soon as possible.”
“Understood.” His fingers flew across his keyboard.
