Luc's expression goes dark. "I'll reach out, see if anything's changed. But I've run operations with him for years. Never a leak, never a problem."
"Do that," Fitz says. "But proceed as if he's compromised until we verify otherwise. In the meantime, I'm running an internal audit on every op touching the Iron Choir case. If someone in the network got compromised, I'll find out how."
Isabella leans forward slightly. "Mr. Fitzwallace, there's something else. Rotterdam."
"I'm listening."
"One of the buyer names from the East 70th event cleared customs yesterday under a Cayman shell corporation. Company traces back to Lazarev."
Another beat of silence. "You're certain?"
"Sophie flagged it overnight." Flat delivery. "Lazarev's not just after revenge anymore. He's buying weapons-grade compounds."
"Bloody hell." Fitz's accent thickens when he's processing bad intel. "If Lazarev's buying from the Iron Choir, that changes everything. He's got demolitions expertise, black market connections, and a personal vendetta against Remy. Add weapons-grade chemical compounds to his arsenal..."
Isabella sets her coffee down. She built the science. Someone else turned it into a weapon. And now her own work might kill thousands if we don't stop it.
"Rotterdam's the choke point," Isabella says. "Brenner gave me the timeline at the event—we have a few weeks until the first shipment reaches buyers. He said delivery is stagedthrough Rotterdam. Three separate shipments, each carrying a partial compound. If they're smart, they're keeping them separated during transport, bringing them together only for final distribution to buyers."
"Makes tactical sense," Fitz says. "Compounds are inert individually, lethal when combined. Staging through one location before dispersing to buyers across Europe gives them control and limits exposure. You hit Rotterdam during that window, you eliminate the threat before it scatters."
Asset options run through my mind—contacts, specialists, people who owe favors. "I need boots on the ground there. Someone who can confirm Rotterdam operations before we move in."
"I can reach out through Cerberus channels," Fitz says.
"No." I don't let him finish the thought. "If someone in the operational chain is compromised, using Cerberus assets puts them at risk. I'll use my own contacts—people outside the network."
"Good thinking," Fitz says. "Sophie's intel gives us the financial trail. You get your own people to verify the physical evidence."
Luc's attention stays fixed on his tablet.
"But Remy, listen to me," Fitz says. "If someone in the operational chain is compromised, you can't rely on established protocols. No Cerberus contractors for this one, no third-party logistics through our usual channels. You go dark, you stay dark, and you only surface when the job's done."
Going dark means cutting ties with Cerberus support networks. Means trusting my own judgment instead of established protocols. Means if things go wrong, there's no backup, no extraction, no safety net.
"Understood," I say.
"And Remy?" Fitz says. "Watch your back. If someone's feeding intelligence to both the Iron Choir and Lazarev, they're playing a long game we don't fully understand yet."
The call ends. Silence settles over us.
The kitchen feels emptier without Margot. Beaumont's has her for prep until late afternoon. We're alone with our plans.
Luc sets his tablet down. "I'm going with you to Rotterdam."
"No," I say immediately.
"Yes." Steel runs through his voice. "You're going into hostile territory with a compromised operational chain. You need someone watching your back who isn't the scientist you're trying to protect. Someone with tactical training who knows how to handle himself when things go wrong."
"Luc—"
"Don't." He cuts me off. "I helped you plan New York. I've got contacts across Europe. I know Rotterdam's port operations better than you do because I've been running security logistics through there for years." His jaw sets. "You don't get to shut me out of this, brother. Not when you're walking into a facility that could have Iron Choir personnel, Lazarev's people, and God knows what else waiting for you."
Everything in me wants to say no. Wants to keep family out of the line of fire. But he's right, and I know it.
Two operatives on site gives us better tactical coverage than one operative trying to protect a scientist while handling demolition. And if Luc knows Rotterdam's port infrastructure, that intelligence could make the difference between a clean operation and a disaster.
"You follow my orders," I say finally. "On site, no arguments, no improvisation. Understood?"
