"Then he's not just hunting me," he says. "He's buying."
My mug warms both hands. The encrypted drive in my messenger bag upstairs, the one I loaded from Emil's files and have carried since that night in Geneva, holds the synthesis pathway and every buyer communication I downloaded that night. The formula I also carry in my own memory. I spent five minutes in conversation with the man who weaponized it, smiled while he explained Rotterdam to me like I was a buyer and not the scientist whose work he'd turned into a delivery system for mass casualties.
If Lazarev's shell company is clearing customs through Rotterdam, he's not just hunting Remy anymore. He's working with the Iron Choir. Two threats that were supposed to be separate have found each other.
Which means whoever put Remy in their crosshairs has also put me right there beside him.
Sophie put me in that room under cover. Only a handful of people knew who I really was. Someone in that handful made a call, and by the time we reached the hotel there was a spotter on the building opposite.
Remy sets his cup down. Luc looks up from his tablet. The kitchen goes quiet in the way that means everyone in it has just arrived at the same conclusion.
"We have a leak," I say.
10
REMY
Isabella's words hang in the air between us, sharp and cold as a blade.
We have a leak.
Luc sets his tablet down with deliberate precision. Micro-expressions cross his face: calculation, anger, the particular stillness that comes before violence. My brother has the same training I do, just different uniforms. We both know what a compromised op means. Operatives die. Intelligence burns. Ops collapse because someone talked or got played or sold out.
"Walk me through it." My voice stays level even as my mind catalogs threats, reassessing every contact, every conversation since Prague.
Isabella straightens in her chair, shifting from scientist to operative. The transformation is happening fast, maybe too fast for her own good.
"Sophie DuBois arranged my cover for the East 70th event," she says. "European energy consultant, industrial chemical procurement background. Invitation was legitimate, backstory solid. But someone made me as Dr. Isabella Durand."
"How do you know?"
"By the time we reached the Knickerbocker, there was a spotter on the building opposite." Her gaze doesn't waver. "And the only people who knew my real identity at that event were in the Cerberus chain."
Luc leans forward. "How many people knew?"
"Sophie." I run through the security protocols. "Coordinated the cover. Fitz. And your New York contact."
My brother's jaw tightens. "I've used him for years, never had a problem."
"Doesn't mean he's clean now." I pull out my phone, running through what I need to tell Fitz. "Someone in that chain either talked or got compromised. Question is whether it was deliberate or if they got played."
Lazarev showing up in Prague wasn't random. The boot tracker means he'd been following me for weeks, maybe months. And if he's buying from the Iron Choir now, he'll be in Rotterdam when the compounds arrive. Two separate threats converging on the same target: us.
"So you've got a leak in the operational chain," Luc says quietly. "Someone's been feeding intelligence for longer than you realized."
I dial Fitz. The phone rings twice before he answers.
"Status?"
"We've got a problem." I put him on speaker. "Someone made Isabella at the East 70th event. Professional surveillance on the hotel within hours. Only people who knew her real identity were in our operational chain."
Silence on the other end. When Fitz speaks again, his voice carries the particular calm that means he's already three steps ahead.
"Walk me through the chain."
"Sophie coordinated cover and invitation. You approved the operation. Luc's New York contact provided logistical support."Isabella processes the implications, her expression tightening. "Someone in that chain either talked or got compromised."
"Sophie's clean," Fitz says immediately. "She's been running ops for me since before you joined. But your brother's contact..." A pause. "I don't know him. That's Luc's network, not mine."
