A faint breath comes over the speaker. Almost amusement. Almost approval. “The collars,” Matteo says. “You saw one, yes?”
My jaw tightens. Olivia’s throat. Metal. The thought lands like a blade dragged over bone.
“Yes,” Dom answers, his voice tighter than before.
Matteo’s tone turns clinical. “They are not props. They are designed for control during presentation, transport, and delivery. Internal blades are pressure-triggered, remotely armed, and monitored through proximity routines. Some are simple. Some are not. This operation uses the kind that punishes irregularity.”
Blaze says, “Irregularity?”
“Unexpected stops. Route deviation. Signal disruption. Panic movement. Visible threat. Anything that suggests the transfer is compromised.”
The room goes colder.
Matteo continues. “You show up early, you don’t get a fight. You get a body.”
Something in me goes completely still. Not calm. Deadly.
He keeps talking, and every word forces my instincts into a smaller, sharper cage. “You charge the transport, a handler presses a button. You shoot the wrong man before the collar is disarmed, a handler presses a button. You block the route, they believe the buyer set them up, and they press a button.”
I don’t breathe. No one does.
“They built this,” Matteo says, “so men like you cannot simply run in and break furniture until the problem goes away.”
Joker’s voice is quiet. “Shame.”
Matteo ignores him.
Logan’s jaw works once. “You can disarm it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They will hand me the remote once delivery is complete.”
I want to rip the phone in half. Instead, I stand still. Because Olivia needs me useful. Because if that collar is real the way he says it is, then every instinct I have could kill her. That is the cruelest part. Not the waiting. Not the debt.
This.
Knowing the thing I do best is the one thing I cannot do.
Matteo’s voice settles into something colder. “You don’t charge this. You follow it.”
Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He’s thinking past rage.
Matteo continues, “My tech, Alessandro, will be linked with Dom before the transfer. Real-time information. Signals. Cameras. Tracking overlays. If the system opens a door, Alessandro will see it, and your man will see it with him.”
Dom leans closer. “I’ll need secure access.”
“You’ll have it.”
“I don’t run blind on another man’s feed.”
“Then don’t. Run parallel. Alessandro will share what he sees. You verify what you can. I expect nothing less.”
Dom’s expression shifts a fraction. Not trust. Professional recognition.
“Who will have eyes on the van?” Carter asks.
