The space smelled of coffee, metal, and fear masked as professionalism.
James stood at the center, a headset clamped over his ears, his posture rigid as steel. He didn't look at me as I entered, his eyes fixed on the screens, one hand pressed to his earpiece, listening to something.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't make my lungs work properly. The van was small, crowded. Claustrophobic. Every surface was covered with technology that was supposed to bring my daughter and Anna home.
"Talk to me," I said, my voice coming out hoarse.
James pointed to the largest screen without looking away from it. A thermal image. Bright white shapes against black. "That's them."
The breath that had been trapped in my chest released in a rush that made me dizzy.
Two small, glowing shapes. Close together. Huddled. In a room near the center of the third floor.
One was slightly larger, adult-sized. The other...
The other was child-sized. So small. So impossibly small.
My vision tunneled. Everything in the van disappeared except that screen, those two fragile blobs of heat that represented my entire world.
"That's them," James confirmed, his voice low, certain. "The two stationary signatures are almost certainly Anna and Daisy. The larger one, Anna, hasn't moved in twenty minutes. She might be unconscious. Or..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Around the two huddled forms, three other, brighter signatures moved in agitated patterns. Pacing. Prowling. Guarding.
On another screen, a grainy black-and-white feed from a helmet cam showed the SWAT team assembling in the shadow of the mill.
Echo Team. Eight operators. Clad in matte black from head to toe. Carrying armor, helmets, and rifles. They moved like shadows given purpose, flowing across the cracked asphalt yard with silent, predatory grace.
These men were going to get my daughter. They were going to bring Anna home. Or die trying.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it was terrifying. Because "or die trying" meant there was a world where this went wrong. Where they breached that room and Carter?—
No. I couldn't think like that. I couldn't let my mind go there.
My eyes locked on one operator. He wasn'tcarrying a standard battering ram. The tool in his hands was large, rectangular, with wicked-looking hydraulic jaws. Industrial. Powerful.
James followed my gaze. "The main interior stairwell is barricaded. Intel from the building's blueprints and thermal imaging suggests he's shoved heavy machinery across it. Old looms, metal frames, industrial equipment. A ram won't work. They need the spreader."
He gestured to the screen.
"The 'jaws of life.' Can peel steel like tin foil. They'll get through."
The clinical description of the obstacle was a nightmare made real. Carter had had time. Hours. Days, maybe. He'd prepared this. Turned the building into a fortress within a ruin. He'd planned for us to find them. Wanted us to find them.
Which meant he'd planned for what came next.
The thought made my stomach turn to ice.
"Echo Lead to Command." A voice, filtered and calm through the speakers, cut through the tension. "In position at secondary entry point. Ready to deploy."
This was it. This was happening. Right now.
My hands found the edge of the console, gripping so hard my knuckles went white. I couldn't take my eyes off the thermal image. Those two small shapes. Still. Unmoving.
Hold on, Daisy. Daddy’s coming. Hold on, Anna. We’re here.
James grabbed his mic, his thumb pressing the button with deliberate pressure. "Command copies. All teams, stand by." He took a steadying breath, his eyes locked on those two precious blobs of heat. I saw a drop of sweat fall down his face. Saw him swallow.
He was a father, too. Three kids. He understood.
