Every line is a hand on her. Every photo is a set of eyes that got too close.
I read it all. I don’t skim. I drink it in because information is control, and I need control over every inch of danger that has touched her life. I need to know who she calls, who expects her home, who might panic when she doesn’t answer. I need to know what they know so I can rip the knowledge out of every other hand that holds it. And underneath that, deeper than strategy, uglier than logic, is something I don’t name. Need. Not soft. Not warm.A gnawing thing with teeth.
I need more. More about her. More of her. More ways to make sure this file becomes the last place any stranger ever holds her name.
“Cobra.” Logan’s voice cuts through.
I look up.
The room is watching me. I close the folder slowly.
“Who gave you this?” I ask.
The man stares at the folder, then at me. “I didn’t see him.”
I take one step toward him.
His breathing changes. “I didn’t,” he says quickly. “I swear. Folder was in the van when we picked it up.”
“Where?”
“Lot off Route 16. Behind the old tire shop.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Who called?”
“Burner.”
“Number?”
“I don’t remember.”
Joker moves behind him again.
The man starts shaking before Joker touches him. “I can get it,” he blurts. “It’s in the phone. Burner in the van. I didn’t memorize it.”
Blaze looks at Logan. “Dom’s got the phone.”
Logan nods once. “Good.”
I step closer until I’m directly in front of the man again. “Why Olivia?”
His brows pull together. “What?”
I hit him.Closed fist. Hard enough to snap his head sideways and split the skin at the corner of his mouth again. Not because I’m losing control. Because he touched her.
“Why Olivia?”
“I don’t know.”
Hammer grips the back of the chair.
Joker steps away, giving me space.
Shadow watches from the wall.
