Torch's voice cut through the ringing in his ears, calm and measured. "They were watching the house. Waiting for the right moment."
"Didn't matter what her pattern was," Brick added from his position by the window. "They were ready the second she stepped outside."
Ghost's jaw worked. They'd been patient. Professional. Set up surveillance, tracked Rachel's movements, learned the house's blind spots. And then they'd waited for Ghost to leave her alone.
His fault.
"I need that van," he said, his voice coming out flat and cold. The rage was still there, burning in his gut, screaming for blood, but he'd shoved it down behind years of training. Channeled it into forward motion.
Echo was already moving, pulling up camera feeds on his laptop faster than Ghost could track. "Running partial plate recognition now. Cross-referencing with stolen vehicle reports, rental databases, anything flagged in the last seventy-two hours."
Frost had his own system open, windows cascading across multiple screens. "Pulling traffic cams. If they used any major roads, we'll find them."
"Five-mile radius," Echo confirmed, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The clicking was rapid and rhythmic, filling the room. "Every intersection, every toll booth, every parking structure with external cameras. If that van exists in the city's surveillance net, I'll have it in three minutes."
The room had shifted into operational mode, that particular energy Ghost recognized from a hundred missions. Keyboards clicked. Boots moved across tile as people repositioned. No onewasted words on anything that didn't move them closer to finding Rachel.
Ghost watched them work, his hand still braced against the table, his phone now in his other hand. His thumb hovered over Predator's contact.
Carver.
If this was connected to what Rachel had uncovered, if Vance's people had taken her because she'd gotten too close, then Carver would know. He was part of the network. Part of the corruption they'd been tracking.
And right now, he was the only leverage Ghost had.
He hit the call button.
Predator answered on the first ring. "Yeah."
"Snatch Carver." Ghost's voice came out lethal and precise, every word clipped. "I want him alive and talking. He's tied to this. Bring him to the warehouse."
A beat of silence. Then: "Rules of engagement?"
Ghost's grip tightened on the phone until the case creaked.Whatever it takes. Break every finger if you have to. Make him scream.
But he couldn't say that. Not over comms. Not where it could be recorded and used against them later.
"Minimum force necessary to secure the target," Ghost said instead. The words tasted like ash in his mouth. "But I need him now. You've got twenty minutes."
"Copy that. Moving on target."
The line went dead.
Ghost set the phone down carefully, deliberately, because if he didn't control the movement he would throw it through the window. His eyes went back to the laptop screen, to that frozen image of Rachel fighting men who'd come to erase her.
Fifty-three minutes. They had fifty-three minutes of head start. That put them anywhere within a sixty-mile radius if they'd stayed on surface streets. More if they'd hit the highway.
But they wouldn't have gone far. Not yet. Professional snatches like this didn't involve long-distance transport in the same vehicle. They'd have a secondary location nearby. Somewhere to switch cars. Somewhere to secure the target before moving her to a more permanent holding site.
Which meant Ghost still had a window.
Narrow. Getting narrower with every second.
But it existed.
"Got it," Echo said, his voice cutting through Ghost's thoughts. "Black van, no plates, caught on a traffic cam heading east on Orange Avenue. Timestamp matches. They turned off before the next camera pickup."
Frost was already overlaying maps on his screen. "That puts them in the industrial corridor. Lots of warehouses. Minimal foot traffic. Perfect place to switch vehicles."
