"That's the problem." Falcon's jaw tightens. "Castellano disappeared. His lawyer claims he's on a business trip overseas, but the FBI thinks he was tipped off about the raids. He's in the wind."
"Someone leaked the investigation," I say, my blood running cold. "Someone with access to federal information warned him."
"That's the working theory. Which means there's still a mole somewhere in law enforcement, someone protecting Castellano." Vulture looks around the table. "Until he's caught, this isn't over. He's got resources, connections, and a strong motivation to eliminate witnesses."
His eyes land on Ava, and the implication's clear. She's the witness who started this whole thing, the journalist whose investigation exposed the operation. If Castellano wants to bury this, he starts with her.
"She doesn't leave the compound," I say, my voice flat. "Not until he's in custody."
"Agreed. And we double security. No one in or out without verification." Vulture stands. "We're in lockdown until further notice. Sterling, coordinate with Robert and keep us updated onthe FBI's progress. Condor, monitor all channels for any chatter about Castellano's location. Everyone else, stay sharp."
Church breaks up, brothers dispersing to their assignments. Ava stays seated, processing everything she just heard, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes.
"What're you thinking?" I ask.
"I'm thinking Castellano didn't build this operation alone. He's got partners, people who helped facilitate the trafficking. If he's disappeared, they might still be accessible." She looks at me. "I need to go through my notes again, cross-reference every name I've collected with Castellano's known associates."
"You can do that from here. We'll get you whatever resources you need."
"I also need to talk to some of my contacts. People who might know where Castellano would run, who he'd trust to hide him."
"Ava."
"I know, I know. Lockdown means lockdown. But phone calls are safe, right? I can make calls from here."
I don't like it, don't like the idea of her reaching out to people who might be compromised or connected to Castellano. But she's right that we need more information, and her contacts are resources we don't have access to through normal channels.
"Make your calls. But you do it with me in the room, and if anything feels off, you hang up immediately." My hand finds hers under the table. "I'm not losing you because some contact turns out to be dirty."
"You're not going to lose me." She squeezes my fingers. "I'm too stubborn to die."
"That's what worries me. Your stubbornness is going to get you killed."
"Or it's going to get us the information we need to end this." She stands, pulling me up with her. "Come on. Let's get to work."
We spend the next several hours in my room, Ava making calls while I listen to every word. She's careful, feeling out each contact before revealing too much, and I'm impressed by how well she navigates conversations with people who clearly don't trust easily.
By early afternoon, she's collected a handful of useful leads. Two of her contacts mention a private airport outside the city that caters to wealthy clients looking for discretion. Another suggests Castellano has a property in Louisiana under a different name, somewhere remote where he could disappear for months.
"Louisiana makes sense," I say, studying the notes she's compiled. "Close enough to his operation's source, and close enough to be able to flee in a private plane into Mexican airspace to buy time."
"If he's there, the FBI needs to coordinate with local authorities. That could take weeks." Ava's frustration is palpable. "Meanwhile, he's free and we're trapped here waiting for him to make a move."
"Being safe isn't being trapped."
"It feels the same." She sets down her pen, rubbing her temples. "I need air. Need to move. I'm going stir-crazy in here."
I understand the feeling. The compound's secure, but it's still a cage when you're not allowed to leave. And Ava's not built for sitting still, not when there's work to be done and justice to pursue.
"There's a gym in the back building. Nothing fancy, but it's got weights and a heavy bag. Might help burn off some of that energy." I stand, offering her my hand. "Come on. I'll show you."
The gym's empty when we arrive, most brothers busy with repair work or security rotations. It's a converted storage room, basic equipment and rubber mats, but it serves its purpose. I wrap Ava's hands with tape and position her in front of the heavy bag.
"You know how to punch?" I ask.
"Self-defense classes. But I'm probably doing it wrong."
"Show me."
