Night swallowed the city in layers of shadow and light.
Kiera sat in the back of the armored SUV, fingers interlaced tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the moving map projected on the screen in front of her. Blue dots marked their units. A single red one pulsed steadily near the docks.
Victor Hale's operative.
Their first real opening.
Kade sat beside her, his knee brushing hers with every turn. The contact wasn't accidental. It was grounding — reminding her she wasn't alone walking into danger anymore.
"Heartbeat steady?" he asked quietly.
"Too steady," she replied. "That's when I know I'm focused."
He gave a faint smile. "That's when you're dangerous."
The vehicle slowed.
Rain began to fall, light at first, then harder — streaking the windshield, blurring neon reflections from warehouse lights.
"Target moving," the driver said. "East corridor. Toward Pier Seven."
Kade leaned forward. "He's not running. He's leading."
"A trap?" Kiera asked.
"Almost certainly."
