“That means what?” one of my guys asks.
“It means she wasn’t just a target. She was the center. Everything branches from her. Inez—close to her, taken with her. Christina—a client, seen with her, taken after.”
My chest tightens, something darker settling in.
“They’re watching her. Anyone who gets close, anyone who interacts, they become leverage. Product. Collateral.”
Jace nods slowly. “That’s a pattern.”
“It’s a strategy,” I correct. “And it’s personal.”
“Lionetti doesn’t move like that without a reason,” Jace says.
“Or someone pushing it.”
Jenna.
I don’t say her name. I don’t have to.
“And Izzy?” Jace asks.
I look at the screen again. At Becca. At the life she had before this.
“He’s part of it,” I say. Not guessing. Knowing. “He had access. To her, to her space, to her people.”
Jace’s expression hardens.
“You think he fed them information.”
“I think nothing about this is coincidence.”
That’s enough. The room shifts, focus tightening, direction becoming clear.
“David Mercer,” Jace says, pulling the file back up. “Former SEAL. He’s been searching nonstop since it happened.”
I look at the still of him on the ground. Unconscious. Failed in a moment he couldn’t control. That kind of thing doesn’t sit well with men like him.
“He’s going to keep pushing,” Jace adds.
“I know.” Because I would.
“He’s already digging into that gas station,” Jace continues. “Which means he’s getting close to Lionetti territory whether he knows it or not.”
That’s a problem. Or an opportunity.
“Get eyes on him,” I say. “Full profile. Movements. Contacts. I want to know how he thinks before we decide anything.”
Jace nods. “On it.”
Behind us, the board fills in—connections, timelines, faces. Lionetti’s men. Some confirmed dead from the breach. Others still unaccounted for.
“They took losses,” one of my guys says. “More than they planned.”
“Good,” I reply. Pressure creates mistakes.
“What about Lionetti?” I ask.
“Still off grid,” Jace says. “But movement through his network is spiking. Money’s shifting. Routes changing.”
