My chair scrapes as I stand. "Where?"
"Scottish Highlands. Near Kinlochmore. We pulled CCTV from two days ago."
The image loads a second later. It's grainy and crooked, but it's her.
The curve of her shoulder. The way she favors her right side when she walks. The small mole on the back of her hand.
It suddenly becomes harder to breathe. "Arrange the charter. Have a team meet us there."
"Okay, but wait?—"
"I don't want to hear it. We're moving now. You're either on the plane or you're not."
"We got a name."
I hate how he makes me ask for it. "Say it," I growl.
Another pause. Longer this time, and I'm half tempted to go to wherever he is right now just so I can punch him inthe stomach.
"Ewan Calder."
Everything comes to a screeching halt. It's unsettling how quiet it is on both ends of the line, like we just realized the ground under us isn't solid anymore.
Calder.
The man people pretend doesn't exist.
The name that never shows up on paper.
The kind of power that doesn't need witnesses because there aren't any left afterward.
There were always rumors about him. No one crosses Calder. He's untouchable.
You don't even say his name aloud unless you're prepared to disappear.
If Calder married her, then Keira didn't choose this.
She was taken against her will.
"If he gets even a hint you're looking for her, he won't come for you first. He'll erase everything around you. Your contacts. Your safe houses. Anyone who's ever answered your call. Everyone you've ever cared about," Nick states the obvious.
"Then I won't give him the chance," I say.
"Don't do this blind. This isn't a fight. It's a fucking extinction event."
"They come home with me. End of story."
I cut the call.
EIGHT
TRISTAN
Fog clings to the rolling hills of the Highlands like it doesn't want to let go. The road into Kinlochmore is a narrow strip of black carved straight through endless green, winding toward a small town.
No people. No traffic. No witnesses.
The perfect hiding spot for Calder.
