A blueprint of the Tao compound, verified for accuracy by Chloe, is spread over the top of my desk. Omero had pulled the architectural records from when it had been built, verified, and adjusted by Chloe. It isn’t perfect, but it is a hell of a lot better than going in blind.
“Teams one and two enter through the east and west service entrances,” Omero runs through it again, pointing at the marks on the map. “Take out the perimeter guards quietly. Don’t set off any alarms; no shots unless absolutely necessary. Silencers on from the start.”
“Team three comes in through the garage,” Raffaello continues. “Disable their vehicles, make sure they can’t fall back and escape.”
“And my team walks right in the front door,” I finish. “Keep Delan and his people distracted while you all clear the house room by room.”
“Were we able to find out if the son is in residence?” Marco asks. “Shuren was part of the Snow Leopard Commando Unit; he’s well-trained and lethal. If he’s there —”
“He’ll be there. Delan won’t meet me without backup.” I tap the center of the blueprint — the main study. “That’s where we’ll be. You focus on finding Emmanuel. I’ll handle whatever comes my way. Got it?”
Affirmations ring throughout the small room, and reluctant nods all around as I look each of them in the eye.
“Emmanuel is the priority. You get my son out first, then you can come back for me.”
Less than two hours later, I’m pulling my car up to the front gate of the Tao’s sprawling estate. Omero in the passenger seat, Raffaello in the back. The compound is exactly what I expected — high walls, traditional Chinese architecture mixed with that of modern American security. There are cameras everywhere. Guards at every entrance.
The guard at the gatehouse approaches, recognizes me, and waves us through.
Too easy.
Then again, they’re expecting a business meeting, not a war. That’s their first mistake.
We park in the circular drive. Another guard meets us at the front door and escorts us inside through hallways decorated with expensive art and weapons of all sorts mounted on the walls.
Delan is waiting in his study— the room is massive with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens —and beside him is Shuren.
Chloe had predicted her brother’s attendance. I’ve seen photos of him, heard rumors, but they don’t do him justice. Mid-thirties, lean yet muscular, with the unique coiled readiness natural only to a trained martial artist. His eyes are cold and calculating as he tracks our every movement.
“Mr. Cierro.” Delan stands, gesturing to the chairs across from the desk. “Thank you for coming. Please, sit.”
“Seems we have much to discuss, Mr. Tao. Wedding arrangements and whatnot.” The word ‘wedding’ tastes like acid on my tongue, but I keep my expression clear and detached.
“I’m pleased that you’ve come to see reason,” he says as he leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers just as he had done during our last meeting. “I was a bit concerned that you might be… resistant.”
“I considered it,” I admit; after all, it’s not a complete lie, “but my son’s safety is paramount. I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure his well-being. As a father, I’m sure you can understand the sentiment.”
“Yes, admirable to be sure,” he replies without conviction. “Family should always come first.”
The hypocrisy makes me want to put my fist through his face. This man kidnapped my son, planned to kill him, beat his own children, and yet here he was, falsely claiming the importance of family.
But I smile and play the part. “Speaking of which, I’d like to see my son. Confirm he’s unharmed before we proceed any further.”
“All in good time. First, let’s solidify a date for the wedding,” he pushes.
My earpiece crackles as he talks, Nico’s voice, barely audible: “Teams one and two in position. Waiting for the go-ahead.”
I shift in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, which prompts Omero to have a well-acted coughing fit — the signal to proceed.
“Excuse me,” he pardons himself.
“Of course,” I say to him before turning back to Delan. “What is Shufen’s preference?”
For the next ten minutes, we proceed to discuss a date, venue, and ceremony style like this is any other wedding and not a hostage situation. Like, I’m not planning to systematically kill every single person in this compound besides the bride.
Throughout the entire negotiation, Shuren doesn’t move from his father’s side, but I see his eyes flickering to his phone. To the security feeds, he’s probably monitoring on the monitor facing them.
Any second now —
