“You're certain?” Dmitri had moved from the couch and was standing behind me, looking at the screen.
“Same bike. Same build. Same way of moving.” I pointed at the screen. “This is one of our attackers.”
“Good.” Luka made a note on his tablet. “That gives us a concrete connection between the money and the violence. Now we trace it back to the source.”
Except the connection didn't feel like progress. It felt like proof that we were being hunted by someone with resources and planning and a patience that told me they'd been watching us for months. Three months of preparation before the first attack. Three months of surveillance and mapping our routines and waiting for the right moment.
The thought made my skin crawl.
“How?” I asked.
“By following the other leads.” Ash pulled up his tablet. “The clinic records I mentioned earlier. Three patients admitted with injuries consistent with professional fighting. All paid cash. All using fake names.”
“But?”
“One of them got sloppy and left a phone number on the intake form.” Ash showed me the image. Medical paperwork with a number scrawled in the margin. “It's a burner. But burners still ping cell towers, and cell towers give us location data.”
“Where did this phone spend most of its time?” Luka asked.
“South Loop. The warehouse district. And—” Ash highlighted a cluster on a map. “Near Declan's rehab center. Multiple pings over the past month. Always after hours. Always when the building should've been empty.”
My stomach dropped. “They've been watching the center.”
“It appears that way.” Luka's expression was grim. “The question is why. Is it because you've been spending time there? Because Declan works there? Or because the location gives them useful sight lines?”
“All three, probably.” Dmitri had pulled up his own map. “The building has good approach routes. Easy to watch without being seen. A smart tactical position.”
“And Declan goes there every day,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be. “Which makes him predictable. Makes him vulnerable.”
“Yes.” Luka closed his laptop. “Which is why we need to move on this. The phone is still active and still pinging the towers. If we can locate the person carrying it, we can start unraveling who's behind this.”
It should have felt like progress. It felt like we were walking into a trap instead, like every piece of information we'd found had been left there deliberately, like someone was steering the investigation the same way they'd steered everything else from the beginning.
“So what's the plan?” I asked.
“We track the phone, see where it leads, and follow carefully to get eyes on whoever's carrying it.” Luka stood and started gathering his equipment. “Dmitri and I will handle the primary surveillance. Ash coordinates from here with the backup team. You?—”
“I'm coming with you,” I said.
“Troy—”
“I'm not sitting here while you handle this. I'm the one they're after. I'm the one who's been attacked three times. I deserve to be part of taking these fuckers down.”
Luka studied me for a long moment. “If you come, you follow my lead. No breaking formation, no freelancing, no heroics.”
“Fine.”
“I'm serious, Troy. You follow the rules or you stay here.”
“I said fine.” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as the phone moves. Right now it's been stationary for the past hour.” Luka checked his tablet. “Based on the pattern, they'll move soon. Probably after dark.”
“So we wait.”
“We wait.”
I hated waiting. Hated standing here while Luka and Ash and Dmitri worked the problem like it was just another operation. Hated feeling useless. Hated knowing that Declan was out there somewhere and I was stuck in this house trying not to put my fist through the wall.
