The silence stretches.I watch Joe’s face, searching for any hint of deception.We’ve known each other all our lives.Bled together.Fought together.Buried people together.If he’s lying, he’s better at it than I’ve ever given him credit for.
“He stays,” I say.
Tommy’s head snaps toward me.“Shelby.”
“He stays.”I hold Joe’s gaze.“But if I find out you’re playing us, if anything you do puts Serena at risk, I will kill you myself.Friendship be damned.”
Something flickers in Joe’s eyes.Respect.Or relief.“Capisce.”
Dave studies us both for a long moment, then nods once.“All right.Joe, what can you tell us about your father’s operations that isn’t in Nikolai’s files?”
Joe moves to the table, his presence changing the dynamic in the room.He’s a man caught between loyalty and justice, trying to find his footing on ground that keeps shifting beneath him.
“My father has a property in Quincy that’s not on any official records,” Joe says, pointing to an area south of the city.“He bought it through a private trust years ago.Uses it for meetings he doesn’t want traced.”
I lean forward, studying the location.Waterfront access.Multiple roads leading in and out.Close enough to Boston for a quick extraction, far enough to avoid casual notice.
“That’s where he’d take her,” I say.“It fits the profile.”
Nikolai pulls up satellite imagery, feeding it into one of the monitors.The property is a converted warehouse, sprawling and isolated.Perfect for holding someone you don’t want found.
“We’ll need to confirm before we move,” Dave says.“I’ll have Ray’s team do a reconnaissance sweep.If Serena’s there, we leave at sunset to breach under the cover of night.”
Sunset.
Five more hours of hell, and it might finally be ending.
I should be relieved.Instead, the cold weight of fear settles deeper into my bones.Because getting to Serena is only half the battle, the other half is making sure I don’t fail her the way I’ve failed everyone else.
The meeting continues.Strategy is refined.Teams are assigned.Joe provides intel that fills in gaps we didn’t know existed.And through it all, I’m present, focused, playing my role as the tactical mind behind this operation.
But beneath the surface, something is fracturing.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face.The trust in her amber gaze when she said she was falling for me.
When Dave dismisses everyone to prepare for the night’s operation, Tommy lingers, watching me with the knowing eyes of a twin.
“We still have a few hours.You should get some rest,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”He moves closer, lowering his voice.“You’re holding it together by a thread.And when that thread snaps...”
“It won’t snap until she’s safe.”I meet his eyes, letting him see the steel beneath my exhaustion.“After that, you can pick up the pieces.But not until then.”
Tommy scans my face, then nods.“I’ll be in the armory.Come find me when you’re ready.”
He leaves me alone with the maps and the silence and the fear I’ve been holding at bay.
I cross to the window and stare out at Boston.Somewhere out there, my wife is counting on me to save her.Even though I couldn’t save Abeera, or those children in Russia.
The bottle of Jameson on the desk drawer calls to me.Just one more drink.Just enough to quiet the voices, to get through the next hours without cracking apart.I pull open the drawer and set the bottle on the desk.I pour another three fingers of whiskey and watch the amber liquid catch the office lights.
My hand tightens around the glass until my knuckles turn white.
I close my eyes, and I’m back in Brazil.The ocean stretched endlessly before us.Her laughter rang across the beach as I chased her into the waves.The memory carves through me like shrapnel.
I drain the whiskey and pour another.The familiar burn is almost comforting.Numbness is the goal.
