“Anything?” I ask.
“Maybe. Contact in Brighton Beach says there’s unusual activity at a warehouse on Jefferson Street. Multiple vehicles arriving in the last hour. Heavy security.”
“How heavy?”
“Eight men visible. Could be more inside.”
Eight men for a warehouse that normally runs with two guards overnight. They’re protecting assets.
“Get a team there. I want real-time updates on everyone going in or out.”
Marcus leaves to coordinate it.
My phone rings. One of our informants who works cleanup for the Petrovs.
“What do you have?” I answer.
“They brought in medical supplies to the Jefferson location. Bandages, antiseptic, pain medication.”
Medical supplies mean someone’s hurt. Someone they want to keep alive long enough to get information from.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“Who signed for the delivery?”
“Viktor himself. He’s on site.”
Viktor Petrov. The one running the operation. The one who wants revenge for his nephew.
“Anything else?”
“The delivery guy said he heard screaming when they opened the loading bay. Female. Then Viktor told him to leave immediately.”
My hand clenches around the phone hard enough that the case cracks. “Keep me updated if anything changes.” I hang up and add the information to the board. Jefferson Street. Viktor on site. Medical supplies. Screaming.
Aurelia’s there. And they’re hurting her.
Declan ends his calls and walks over. “Jefferson Street is looking more likely. Three independent sources confirming increased activity.”
“Pull surveillance from the other locations. Focus everything on Jefferson.”
“If we’re wrong?—”
“We’re not. That’s where she is.”
He starts making calls to redirect teams.
I’m studying the map when my office door opens and Julian walks in. Alone. No security. Just him and the gun I can see under his jacket.
He says, “You’re mobilizing for an assault on Petrov property.”
“Yes.”
“Without coordinating with me. Without involving Vance resources. Like this is your operation.”
“It is my operation. She’s there because of me. I’m the one getting her out.”
