Her body slumped sideways, limp like a fucking ragdoll.
The tablet cracked under my grip before I realized I was squeezing it.
I couldn’t look away.
The angle of her neck.
The slack line of her arm.
The way her hair fell across her face like she was asleep instead of drugged and zip-tied in the back of a fucking van.
That image burned itself into me.
Fuel.
“Wreck,” Ghost warned.
I let go, breathing sharp through my nose. The rage surged again, but this time it had direction.
Cap’s voice came in over the speaker system, clipped and sharp. “I’ve got a contact in Portland pulling traffic feeds and local chatter. They’re working on infrared overlays—looking for engine signatures that match the van.”
“ETA?” Ranger asked.
“Ten minutes, max. We’re not waiting.”
Ghost flicked another screen on. “I’ve narrowed the radius based on time and speed. Assuming they hit the main road within two minutes of extraction, they’ve got a ten-mile lead tops. Factoring for backroads and detours—” he pointed at the map pulsing on the wall, red lines lighting up, “we’ve got about seven viable routes. Three lead to known safehouses. Two go cold.”
“They wouldn’t go cold,” I said flatly. “They’d go buried.”
Ranger nodded grimly. “Which means the off-grid routes.”
Cap’s voice cut in again. “Ghost, keep scraping cameras. Brutus, you’re with Ranger. Plot every side road, trail, andservice path in that radius. Assume they’re taking the one with the most tree cover and no cell service.”
“And me?” I asked.
“You’re prepping the assault,” Cap said without missing a beat. “Get the van packed. Gear loaded. Tactical kits updated. No misfires on this one.”
Prep meant rules.
Prep meant control.
It was the only thing keeping me from detonating.
“I’m leading it,” I said.
Silence.
Then Cap replied, calm but sharp: “You don’t get sloppy. You don’t get reckless.”
Sloppy got people killed.
Reckless got her taken.
I wasn’t going to be either.
“I won’t.” My voice was steel. “But I’m bringing her back.”
Cap didn’t argue.
