Zane doesn’t look up. “But the signal bounced.”
My head snaps toward him. “Where?”
He pulls something up, zooming in. “There’s a ping here. Weak. Routed through a tower on the north side.”
North.
My pulse kicks.
“Keep going,” Ryder says.
Zane nods. “There was a supply stop reported earlier. Short window. Someone saw a truck offloading fuel near the old access road.”
Determination locks into place—a direction, finally.
“A whisper’s been floating around too,” I add, already pulling my phone out. “Same area. Old mountain access road. Not much traffic. Easy to control.”
Zane glances at me. “That fits.”
Ryder’s gaze moves between us, then back to the map.
“North access,” he says. “At the storage units there?”
“Or something close,” Zane replies. “Controlled entry. Limited visibility.”
My hands curl into fists.
She’s there. She has to be.
“We’re done waiting,” I say.
Ryder nods once. “We move.”
I don’t wait for instructions. I’m already heading for the door, keys in hand, the need to move hitting so hard it might split me open if I don’t.
“Finn…” Zane starts.
“I’m taking the bike,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Truck’s safer.”
“I’m faster.”
That ends it.
The engine roars to life under me, loud and alive and something I can actually control, and my breathing almost evens out.
I take off hard.
The road out of town blurs under me, wind tearing past, cold and sharp against my face. I lean into it, pushing faster than I should, faster than is smart, because smart left the building the second that video ended.
Because she said Ryder’s name because she needed him to hear it.
Because she sounded…
No.
Focus.
