Air rushes from my lungs. I didn't realize I'd been holding it. I can't think of anything when the laptop screen stays dark, where Anton's tracker should be glowing green.
Yuri's hand covers mine. Warm. Steady. "He entered the shipping containers," he says. "Signal gets weak in there. The metal walls create interference."
"But the gunfire?"
"He's looking for cover." Yuri's voice carries absolute certainty. "You know how many times Anton's been shot?"
I stare at Yuri, trying to read whether this is comfort or cruel honesty.
"No."
Yuri's mouth curves, just barely. Not quite a smile. Something darker, more assured.
"None."
The word lands like a physical hit.
"None," Yuri repeats. "Anton stays invisible until he chooses not to be. Because he doesn't take hits, Fee. He gives them."
My pulse hammers like machine-gun fire. Logically, Yuri's explanation makes sense. Anton's survived this long because he's better than everyone else. But my heart doesn't get the memo. It keeps hammering, frantic and unconvinced.
"He's going after the shipment," Yuri says. "Alone. Because whoever wants him is creating this."
"They used the shipment as bait."
Yuri nods once. Sharp. Efficient.
"And before that, they used you."
I stare at the blank screen where Anton's signal should be. My mind races through the patterns. The precision of every attack. The way Morrison was set up, then eliminated when he became useless.
The reactivated flower order that wasn't about roses at all, but about showing Anton that someone could reach into his personal life without permission.
And me.
They knew about me before anyone else did. Before Anton even admitted to himself what I meant to him. They've been watching us for these last six months.
"They've been waiting," I whisper. "Building this trap piece by piece."
On his laptop, security footage shows shipping containers stacked like metal coffins. Dark water beyond the dock. No movement visible in the grainy feed.
"Anton knows it's a trap." Yuri's fingers fly across the keyboard. "He's counting on it."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
Yuri glances at me. "Traps only work when you don't see them coming. Anton walked in there with his eyes open."
My stomach churns. Anton might be the best, but he's also hunting someone who knows exactly how he operates.
Someone who knows Anton's weakness is me.
Mom and Dad left thirty minutes ago, or maybe longer, to get something to eat. I need space to think.
Mom didn't want to leave. She kept looking between the hallway at Moira and me, as if being close enough could keep us both safe. But Dad convinced her that Yuri was with me, Lorenzo and his men were here, and panicking on an empty stomach wouldn't help anyone.
Mom's gone completely paranoid now. With good reason. But even paranoia can't survive indefinitely without fuel.
Logic doesn't stop my thoughts from scattering in every direction like paper in the wind. Logic doesn't slow my racing pulse or unknot the tight coil in my stomach.
