I answered. “Hey.”
“Don't 'hey' me like everything's fine.” Her voice cut through the tension in the car like a blade. “You haven't been to the gym in three days. You're not answering the texts. And when I called the house, you didn't pick up. What the hell is going on?”
“I'm handling something.”
“What kind of something requires you to go dark for seventy-two hours?”
I looked at Luka. At Dmitri. At the guns and tactical gear scattered across the seats. At the maps showing the warehouse where Troy was being held.
“I can't explain right now.” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to know I'm okay and I'm handling it.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then, quieter: “This is about Troy, isn't it?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Longer this time. “Are you going to do something stupid trying to fix it?”
“Probably.”
“Declan—”
“I have to go.” I cut her off before she could argue. Before the sound of her voice made me second-guess what I was about to do. “I'll call you when this is over. I promise.”
“You better.” The worry bled through despite her attempt to sound tough. “And Declan? Whatever you're about to do, don't get yourself killed. That gym needs you. I need you. So does Troy, probably more than he's willing to admit.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a long moment. Felt the weight of normal life pressing against the reality of what I'd become. Mara represented everything stable. Everything good and uncomplicated about the world I'd built before Troy came back and turned it all sideways.
But Troy was the center now. Troy was the reason I was sitting in this car with a loaded gun in my hand, heading toward violence I couldn't begin to justify to anyone who hadn't lived through the past two weeks.
“We're close,” Dmitri said from the front seat.
I looked up. The industrial district sprawled around us in shades of gray and rust. Abandoned factories. Empty lots.
Luka pulled out a tablet showing the thermal imaging of the warehouse. “Seven guards on the perimeter. Maybe more inside. Rafael's not taking chances.”
“Neither are we.” Ash checked his weapon and chambered a round with practiced ease. “We go in hard and fast. No warning shots. No mercy for anyone who gets between us and Troy.”
Dmitri parked three blocks away in an alley that gave us cover while still maintaining the sightlines on the target. We geared up in silence.
“Declan.” Luka looked at me. “You don't have to do this. You can wait in the car. Let us handle the extraction.”
“No.”
“You're injured. Concussed. You haven't slept in two days. You're a liability in a firefight.”
“I don't give a fuck.” I met his eyes and held them. “Troy's in there and I'm not waiting in the fucking car while you handle this.”
Luka studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Stay behind Dmitri. Follow his lead. And if you go down, stay down. We can't afford to split resources protecting you.”
“Understood.”
We moved toward the warehouse in formation. Dmitri took point. Ash covered the rear. Luka and I stayed in the middle, moving through the shadows and debris with practiced silence that spoke to years of experience I didn't have.
