“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then we adjust on the ground.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “You grab those kids, and everything changes. The truce we have with the Vances, the business partnerships Julian’s been building, all of it goes to hell. You’ll lose allies. Other families will have to choose sides.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. This affects more than just you.”
“Those boys are growing up without their father because Aurelia decided I didn’t deserve to know them. How long am I supposed to wait? Another five years? Ten? Until they’re adults and it’s too late?”
“You could negotiate?—”
“She had her chance. She chose to lie.”
Declan stands up. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning. School drop-off is between seven forty-five and eight.”
“That’s not enough time to prepare?—”
“It’s plenty of time. Get me people who can move fast and stay controlled. I want this done clean.”
“Define clean.”
“Minimal violence. The boys are five years old. I don’t want them traumatized.”
“You’re taking them from their mother by force. They’re going to be traumatized no matter how gentle you are.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. But it doesn’t change anything.
“Get the team,” I say. “We move tomorrow.”
He leaves without another word.
I spend the rest of the afternoon reviewing what we know about the school.
Dalton Academy. Upper Manhattan. Private, expensive. The tuition alone could fund a small operation for a year. Security is present but subtle. Can’t have armed guards at the gates without shattering the illusion that these kids live in a safe world. Parents pay premium prices to pretend their children aren’t targets.
Marcus handles the reconnaissance. He’s one of my best people, former military, who knows how to gather intelligence without being noticed. He comes back at six with photos and a detailed report.
“Morning drop-off happens in a thirty-minute window,” he says, spreading the photos across my desk. “Most families arrive between seven forty-five and eight fifteen. Parents park in the circular driveway, walk their kids to the entrance, and say goodbye at the door. Teachers take over from there.”
“Security presence?”
“Two visible guards. Both Vance people based on the way they move. Professional, alert, but they stay back. Don’t crowd the children or make the other parents nervous.”
“Just two?”
“That we saw. Could be more in unmarked vehicles nearby, but they’re keeping it low-key.”
I study the photos. The school entrance, the driveway, and the short path from curb to door. Maybe thirty feet of exposure. “What’s the timing from when they arrive to when they’re inside?”
“Sixty to ninety seconds, depending on how fast the kids move. Some of them drag their feet, don’t want to go in. Teachers usually come out to help move things along.”
“And if we hit them during that window?”
Marcus hesitates. “It’s doable. But you’d need two vehicles minimum. One to block Vance security, one for the actual extraction. You’re looking at maybe forty-five seconds before backup arrives or someone calls the police.”
