Page 62 of Howl Lotta Love

A guard brought her a laptop with no internet access an hour later, along with the Chairman’s instructions to do exactly what he’d asked. Emma understood exactly what kind of trap she’d been handed—and exactly what kind of opportunity.

She built the confession slowly, patiently, disguising it as exactly what the Chairman had ordered: a contrite little document explaining, in suitably pathetic detail, that she’d fabricated every number for fame and fortune. She laughed once, low and humorless, typing it. Underneath the false apology she built out a financial reconciliation—columns, formulas, the tedious architecture of legitimate accounting work—and buried the truth inside the notation instead: the compound’s coordinates, the guard rotation windows, the location of the underground detention level she’d mapped on the walk in, alphabetized in the same quirky order she’d used on every case file for seventeen years.

The same guard returned later and took the laptop. Her only hope was that Gerri would get the file to Jace. Tucker would recognize her cipher buried inside a spreadsheet, because nobody else on earth alphabetized quite like she did.

She sat back, folded her hands, and waited, more patient than she’d ever been in her life.

The Chairman returned as evening fell, exactly as he’d promised, and settled into the same chair with the same measured calm he’d worn during their first conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Burke.”

“Cooperation isn’t what I’d call it.” Emma kept her voice angry, giving away nothing of the worksheet traveling toward the one person on earth who’d recognize it for what it was. “I have considered exactly how badly this ends for you, though. Decades of patient work, and it’s going to collapse because you trusted Victor Kane to handle the parts that required actual competence.”

“Victor has his uses.”

“Victor has a body count and a paper trail three inches thick, and you’re standing in the same building as both of those things right now.” She held his gaze without flinching. “That’s not patience, Chairman. That’s exposure. You haven’t noticed the difference yet.”

His expression shifted, fast and gone, and for the first time since she’d met him, Emma watched a flicker of genuine uncertainty cross a face built utterly around never showing any.

“You’re an interesting woman, Miss Burke.” He rose, smoothing his jacket with the same fastidious care as before, though his movements had gone half a beat slower than they’d been a few hours ago. “I do hope the people coming for you understand exactly what they’re walking into.”

“They do.” Emma smiled, slow and certain. “Better than you understand what’s walking toward you.”

He left without responding, and Emma allowed herself exactly one long breath before she went back to waiting, running the day’s conversations over in her head one more time. Two visits. Two cracks in two very different kinds of armor. If Jace’s team needed a way in past the compound’s defenses, the Chairman’s fraying partnership with Kane might prove much more useful than any door she could pick.

Jace Maddox

Maddox Command in the offices downtown hadn’t gone quiet in seven hours.

Jace hadn’t shaved. He hadn’t eaten anything Diesel put in front of him beyond two bites out of pure obligation. He’d put his fist through a support beam in the stairwell somewhere around hour three, when the waiting got loud enough in his head that he’d needed a wall to break, and nobody on the team had said a word about the hole or the blood on his knuckles afterward. He’d spent the rest of the stretch pacing between monitors, running scenarios, and fighting the particular brand of helplessness that came from loving someone whose location he didn’t know and couldn’t reach.

Tucker had tracked the van into downtown and as far as Kane’s building, but lost her trail after that.

Roman appeared at his elbow with a plate of food Jace hadn’t asked for and wasn’t planning to touch, setting it down with stubborn insistence—clearly sent by someone else, and clearly intent on seeing the mission through. “Diesel says eat. I’m relaying the message. I’m not personally invested in whether you comply, but he’ll sulk, and a sulking Diesel is worse for morale than a hungry alpha.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Noted. Eat anyway.” Roman didn’t move, arms crossed, an immovable wall in the doorway. “We’re going to get her back, boss. I need you at full strength when we do, not running on hours of spite and bad coffee.”

Jace ate three bites to make the point stop, which seemed to satisfy Roman enough that he wandered off toward Tucker’s station instead, muttering under his breath about betting pools that had gone very quiet since Emma’s disappearance, nobody quite willing to keep it running under the circumstances.

Gerri swept into the room like the small whirlwind she was and handed Tucker a flash drive. “This just came in from Emma. Some pathetic little email about faking numbers for fame and fortune.” Her mouth curled, sharp with contempt for the very idea. “That is not my girl. Whatever she’s actually telling us is buried in those numbers, and I want it found in the next ten minutes.”

“Tucker—” Jace said.

“On it, boss. I’ll find it.”

Gerri turned to Jace, arms crossed, and only then did he notice she was dressed for combat, tactical boots and all, in a way that suggested she’d been planning this outfit for a while.

“I’m coming on this rescue, Jace. I want that understood clearly before you waste breath arguing with me.”

“Gerri—”

“That’s my girl in there. I didn’t spend six months matching the two of you to sit at home with a cup of tea while you go get her back.” Her voice hadn’t risen. “As I’ve already said, I have resources this pack doesn’t have. Contacts. Considerable leverage over people who owe me favors they’d rather not discuss publicly. My team is ready when you say go.”

Jace studied her for a long moment, fury and exhaustion both fighting for space behind his eyes, and her steady, unblinking patience finally cracked the composure he’d been maintaining through hours of controlled panic.

“I’m more afraid right now than I’ve ever been in my life.” His voice came out low, rough, admitting a fact he hadn’t said out loud to anyone yet. “Not the wars. Not anything before her. Nothing prepared me for this exact kind of fear, Gerri. She let herself be taken because she loves me enough to sacrifice herself for it, and I don’t know how to survive that if it goes wrong.”