“Negative,” I said, watching the ripples fade. “He’s heading downriver. And if we wait, we’ll lose him again.”
Julia’s hand brushed mine—steady, certain. “Then we don’t wait.”
I turned to her, rain slicking across both of us, the adrenaline still hot in our veins. “You ready to go after him again?”
She gave me that fierce, defiant smile. “Always.”
20
Julia
The water was black glass, broken only by the strobing lights of patrol boats cutting across the current. Somewhere beneath that dark skin of the river, Adrian Reese was slipping away.
I stood at the edge of the pier, rain seeping down my collar, adrenaline refusing to fade. Hawk crouched beside a coil of rope, scanning the surface through night-vision binoculars.
“Nothing yet?” I asked.
He shook his head. “But he didn’t vanish. That beacon was deliberate—he wants to be followed.”
Aaron’s voice came over the comms. “Search teams are ten minutes out.”
“Ten minutes is too long,” Hawk muttered. He dropped the binoculars and looked at me. “You still want to see this through?”
I gave a short, humorless laugh. “After everything? You think I’m staying on the dock?”
He almost smiled. “Didn’t think so.”
We tookone of the smaller patrol crafts tied to the pier—there was no time to wait for clearance. Boone, Russ, and Logan’s mouths hung open when they spotted us from the bridge. The engine coughed once, then started, and the propellers bit into the current. The city lights slid away behind us until only fog, water, and the sweep of our searchlight remained on the surface.
Reese’s beacon flashed again, faint and rhythmic, a heartbeat beneath the river. Hawk leaned over the console. “That’s no diver beacon. It’s a homing signal.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning there’s something down there waiting for him.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the sonar screen bloomed with a metallic silhouette—a tunnel mouth beneath the docks. Reese hadn’t drowned. He’d gone home.
“Hold on,” Hawk said, and throttled forward.
The tunnel swallowedus in darkness. The walls dripped with condensation, echoes bouncing in every direction. We killed the engine and drifted the last few yards until the narrow passage widened into a cavern carved out of bedrock. A faint industrial hum vibrated through the air.
Hawk signaled for silence. We climbed out, boots splashing softly. The chamber stretched ahead, lit by strips of low blue light and lined with crates stamped with Halcyon’s insignia. At the far end, a small submersible sat half-submerged in a maintenance dock. Reese was there, barking orders to two men in tactical gear, shoving a metal case into the sub’s hatch.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I whispered.
“Server drives,” Hawk said grimly. “Everything we recovered at the facility—he made copies.”
“Then we stop him.”
He nodded, and we moved. Every step was silent, every breath measured. When we were twenty feet away, I leveled my weapon. “Reese! Step away from the sub!”
The men spun, weapons rising—but Hawk was faster. His rifle cracked once, dropping one guard. The other went for the alarm; I fired, catching him in the leg. He collapsed with a shout.
Reese turned slowly, that infuriating calm still on his face. “Detective Marlow,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “I was hoping you’d make it. You’re part of the pattern now.”
“End of the line,” Hawk said. “Hands up.”
Reese raised them—but his smile didn’t falter. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
