“We checked all Jax’s known shell companies,” I say, already moving toward my weapons case.
“This one wasn’t on our radar. The property transfer only happened three days ago.” Grayson pulls up energy consumption graphs. “Look at the power draw—consistent with subterranean climate control and high-end security systems.”
My eyes narrow on the thermal imaging scans. “Those heat signatures...”
“Multiple bodies. Lower level, approximately twenty feet below ground.” Grayson zooms in on surveillance photos. “And here’s what sealed it—the security rotation. Six-man teams, three-hour intervals.”
“Jax’s personal detail,” I say.
For the first time in two weeks, I feel something beyond rage and exhaustion. Hope—dangerous, fragile hope.
“Satellite confirms four sniper positions, motion sensors throughout the perimeter. Two vehicle checkpoints.” Grayson scrolls through more images. “It’s a fortress, but it’s not impossible.”
I study the layout, already mapping entry points, calculating risks. “How recent is this intel?”
“Thermal imaging is from ninety minutes ago. Security footage was accessed thirty minutes ago.”
“Wheels up in five. Full tactical gear. I want everybody loaded and ready.” I don’t look up from the schematics as I issue orders, memorizing every entrance, exit, and potential chokepoint in the warehouse complex.
“Hunt, satellite confirmation will take another forty minutes,” Grayson says, hesitating by the door. “We should wait for?—”
“No.” The word cuts through the room. “Every minute we wait is another minute she’s in his hands. Move. Now.”
No one argues further. They’ve learned better these past two weeks.
Twenty minutes later, our convoy speeds north along coastal roads. Four black SUVs, twenty of my most loyal men. Armed like we’re invading a small country. Which isn’t far from the truth.
Penn sits beside me in the lead vehicle, checking his weapons. I catch him watching me in my peripheral vision.
“Say it,” I order, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“You haven’t slept in three days,” Penn says. “Your decision-making is compromised.”
“Irrelevant.”
“You’re taking increasingly reckless actions. The Williamsburg raid—you went in without backup. The dockside facility—you walked directly into crossfire.” Penn loads his magazine with a sharp click. “You’re not just willing to die for this, you’re actively trying to.”
I don’t bother denying it. “Your point?”
“My point is, we need you functioning to get her out.”
“No,” I correct him. “You need me to find her. After that, my survival is optional.”
Penn shifts to face me directly. “Hunter?—”
“I don’t need to survive this.” I cut him off, meeting his eyes briefly. Something in my expression makes him flinch. “I just need to get Aurora out. That’s the mission. The only mission.”
“And if we get there and she’s not there? If it’s another diversion?”
“Then we burn it down and move to the next location.” My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “I’ll tear down every building Jax has ever touched until I find her. And when I do find her, I’m going to make him beg for death.”
The first hints of dawn bleed across the horizon as we approach the compound. We park the vehicles, and I signal to Penn and Grayson, their teams separating to hit the secondary entry points. Perfect timing—guard rotation in twelve minutes, maximum vulnerability.
“On my mark,” I whisper into the comm. My shoulder holster feels heavier than usual, loaded with extra magazines. I won’t run out this time. I won’t fail her again.
“Three. Two. One. Execute.”
We breach through three entry points. The shaped charges blow the reinforced doors with precisely calculated force. Before the debris settles, I’m through the opening, weapon raised.
