He looked toward the warehouse entrance. "They're probing." The room fell quiet because everyone understood what that meant. Someone was testing their defenses before committing to an attack.
Avery appeared beside him, fastening a tactical vest. "You thinking it's Keller?"
"I know it's Keller,” Rocco said.
"You've got proof?" Avery asked.
Rocco looked at the dead camera feed. "No, but I've got my instincts."
She snorted. "That's not admissible in court."
"No, it’s not.” He checked the magazine in his pistol. "But it's kept me alive so far." She couldn't argue with that.
Across the room, Lark sat at the conference table while one of the medics cleaned the scrape on her forearm. She looked exhausted, and every few seconds, her eyes drifted toward the loading bay doors, as though she expected another attack. Rocco recognized hypervigilance because he'd lived with it for years. Dante stood nearby talking quietly with another operator. Except he wasn't really listening. Every few seconds, his gaze returned to Lark as though checking on her to make sure she was still there. Rocco almost smiled because the man was hopeless.
"You keep staring at her." Dante's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Rocco looked over at him. "So do you."
Dante didn't deny it. "I've spent three years making sure she was alive." His jaw tightened. "I don't know how to stop."
"You don't stop,” Rocco said.
Dante frowned. "What?"
"You don't stop caring,” Rocco insisted as he leaned against the table. "You just stop believing she's going to disappear every time you look away."
"I've never had that luxury,” Dante said.
"No, I don’t suppose that you have,” Rocco agreed.
"You don't understand,” Dante said.
Rocco's expression darkened. "My parents were murdered.” That seemed to catch Dante off guard. "I was nine." He looked toward Lark. "You know what that teaches you?" Dante didn't answer. "That the people you love can disappear in a heartbeat."The warehouse seemed quieter somehow. "I still wake up expecting them to be here."
Dante looked down at the floor. "I know what that's like." He looked back over to where Lark was getting her arm bandaged and shook his head, and for a second, Rocco wondered what Santos had on Dante that kept him under his thumb.
The medic finished wrapping Lark's arm. "There." She smiled politely.
"Thank you,” Lark said.
"You should try to get some rest."
Lark laughed softly. "I don't think my brain got that memo." The medic walked away, but Lark remained sitting there alone. She rubbed absentmindedly at the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as though trying to make herself feel safe. Rocco hated that she'd reached adulthood without ever knowing what safety felt like.
A technician suddenly called out. "I've got something." Everyone turned. "Thermals." The overhead satellite image appeared on the main monitor, showing red heat signatures—dozens of them, moving through neighboring buildings. Rocco counted quickly, and his stomach sank when he hit twenty.
"They're surrounding us,” Rocco breathed.
Avery looked over his shoulder. "That's not a retrieval team."
"No, it isn't." Whoever Keller had sent wasn't trying to be subtle anymore. They were preparing for war.
The warehouse lights flickered once, and then again. The backup generators kicked in immediately, and one of the technicians cursed. "They just cut commercial power to the entire block."
Rocco looked toward Avery. "They're isolating us."
She nodded. "So nobody hears the shooting."
