Rachel's voice came through bright and professional:"Hi, you've reached Rachel Parker. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."
Ghost ended the call without speaking, his thumb white where it pressed against the phone's edge.
His training offered a dozen logical explanations. Dead battery. Lost phone. She'd stepped out to grab something from the corner store and left it charging on the counter.
But the cold weight settling in his gut wasn't listening to logic.
"We need to move," he said. "Now."
Torch's head turned. "What's wrong?"
"Rachel's not answering." Ghost shoved the phone into the center console and threw the truck into gear. The engine roared as he pulled away from the curb, tires biting into asphalt hard enough to leave marks. "She always answers."
"Could be—"
"It's not." Ghost cut him off, weaving through traffic with combat-zone precision. A horn blared behind them. He didn't slow. "Every instinct I've got says she's in trouble."
Torch didn't argue. He just reached for his comms unit. "We've got a situation. Rachel's not responding. Ghost's moving to the house now."
The team channel lit up immediately.
"Is she still at the residence?" Echo's voice came through clear and controlled, but Ghost caught the edge beneath it.
"Unknown," Ghost said, taking a corner harder than he should have. Another horn. He ignored it. "We're three minutes out."
"En route," Brick confirmed. In the background, Ghost heard an engine roar to life.
"Rolling now," Reaper added.
Frost's transmission came through with road noise behind it. "ETA six minutes."
Then Predator: "You want Rogue and me to pull off Carver?"
Ghost's hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles went white. The question sat in his chest like broken glass. If Rachel was in danger, if someone had gotten to her because of what they'd uncovered, then every second mattered. He should pull everyone. Converge on the house. Find her.
But they were so close. Carver, Langley, Hale, they had the structure mapped, the evidence building. If this was connected, if Vance's people had moved against Rachel, pulling surveillance now could spook them into scattering. They'd lose everything.
And if Rachel was already gone, if they'd taken her...
He'd need leverage. He'd need a name, a location, intel he could use to force Vance's hand before they disappeared her completely.
Ghost keyed his mic, forcing his voice to stay level even though his heart was hammering against his ribs. "Negative. Stay on Carver. If this is connected, we need eyes on all three targets."
A beat of silence. Then Predator's response: "Copy that."
***
Ghost took the final turn onto his street going too fast, the truck's suspension protesting as he cut across two lanes. Tires squealed. The smell of hot rubber filled the cab.
His house appeared ahead.
The front door was open.
Ghost's heart stopped.
Not broken. Not forced. Just... open. Hanging slightly ajar like someone had left in a hurry and hadn't bothered to close it behind them.
He slammed the truck into park before it fully stopped. His seatbelt was already off, his hand already on his sidearm as his boots hit pavement. The afternoon heat wrapped around him immediately, dry and oppressive, the smell of sun-baked asphalt and cut grass.
