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Delaney sprinted across the hospital parking lot behind Eli, her boots hitting the pavement in sharp, fast strides. The morning sun was higher now, but it did nothing to take the edge off the chill crawling under her skin.
They reached the Crossfire Ops SUV, and Eli had the engine started before she even shut her door. A second later, her phone buzzed.
Noah.
She opened the text and read off the coordinates.
“Outside Blanco Pass,” she said. “Highway 281 heading north. He thinks they’re trying to lose anyone tailing them before they make a move.”
Eli nodded and floored the accelerator. Gravel sprayed from under the tires as they pulled out of the lot and onto the two-lane road cutting through the Hill Country. The SUV ate up the distance fast, but not fast enough to settle the tightening in Delaney’s chest.
She stared at the road, the landscape blurringpast.
“If Ava’s in that van,” she said quietly, “and Hale knows Olivia talked, they might try to use her.”
Eli kept his eyes on the road. “To send a message.”
“Or worse,” Delaney said. “They could use Ava to draw Olivia back in. Force a trade. Threaten to make her disappear if Olivia doesn’t cooperate.”
The silence stretched between them. The tires hummed against the pavement, the only sound in the cabin for a long beat.
“She’s just a kid,” Delaney muttered. “Eighteen.” Nearly the same age as Jordan Mendez, the other girl she’d failed to save. “If we lose her…”
Delaney didn’t finish the thought.
Eli’s grip tightened on the wheel. “We’re not going to.”
Her phone buzzed again. Another text from Noah. Delaney opened it and tapped the video link. The drone feed came up, grainy but stable. It showed a dark panel van weaving through light morning traffic along a rural stretch of highway.
“They’re still on 281,” she relayed, her eyes on the screen. “Northbound. Moving steady.”
Eli nodded, shifting lanes to pass a slow pickup as their SUV surged forward. A moment later, the van on the feed made a hard right turn.
“They just pulled onto a farm road. Narrow, no signage.” Delaney adjusted the view. “Looks like they’re cutting away from the highway to loseanyone behind them.”
Cursing under his breath, Eli peeled off at the next turn, dirt and gravel spitting from the tires as they hit the rural road. The ride grew bumpier, potholes and frost cracks rattling through the frame.
“We’re still twenty minutes out,” Delaney said. “Assuming they don’t change course again.”
Eli’s phone buzzed against the dash, and he answered without taking his eyes off the road. “Tarrant.”
“It’s Isla,” came the voice on the line. “You’ve got a minute?”
Delaney knew the name. Isla Prescott had once been a field specialist with a specialty in intel extraction, but a spinal injury during a mission had taken her out of field duty rotation. Now, she ran point on tech and ops support from Crossfire headquarters, and her intel was always on target.
“Go ahead,” Eli said.
“I’ve got IDs on the two dead men from the safe house,” Isla explained. “Vincent Radley and Mark Trent. Both with serious records. Gunrunning, assault, attempted murder. They’re not exactly subtle.”
“Any ties to Hale or the institute?” Delaney asked.
“Not on paper,” Isla replied. “No employment links, no phone records, not even a shell company match. As far as the system’s concerned, they’ve never heard of Hale or the institute.”
“They tracked Olivia,” Eli reminded her. “That doesn’t happen without a connection.”
“Maybe,” Isla said. “But that tracker we found in her shoe? It was hacked about an hour before the safe house was breached. Signal was rerouted through a ghost IP that pinged in three different countries. These guys might not have planted it. Just used it.”
