Not the dusty emptiness of true abandonment, but the too-clean emptiness of recent use. Coffee cups sat on a folding table. Folding chairs were arranged in a loose circle.
"Single operation setup," Gabriel observed, studying the space. "Just enough for one team. Probably cleared out after the hit."
Andre moved methodically through the warehouse, every sense alert. Whiteboards had been wiped clean but not perfectly—ghost images of words and diagrams remained. Power strips with phone chargers still plugged in but devices gone. An empty accelerant container in the corner, hazmat labels still visible.
"Standard hit and move," Valeria said. "They did the job and cleared out. Professional."
Andre swept his flashlight along the walls, checking corners and crevices. Near the loading dock, something caught his eye—a torn shipping label stuck to the bottom of an overturned milk crate. He dropped to one knee, extracting it carefully with gloved fingers.
The label was mostly intact, adhesive still tacky. His pulse quickened as he read:
Ship to: Mountain Services LLC
Reference: CMDev-MW-3847
"Got something," Andre called.
Gabriel appeared at his shoulder, studying the label. "CMDev. What's that?"
Andre stared at the letters. Some parent company? Another shell corporation?
His phone rang. Joy. He stepped outside to answer, needing the fresh air anyway.
"I know you're working," she said, voice thick with exhaustion. "But I needed to hear your voice."
"I'm here. We found their staging area. We're close, Joy. We're going to get them."
"It's Ryan Holbrook." Her voice hardened. "I know it is. The way he studied my booth. The timeline he mentioned. Andre, he knew this was going to happen."
"We'll find the connection. I promise."
"Be careful."
The call ended, leaving Andre standing in the warehouse that held too many questions.
"Forensics will process everything," Heath ordered. "Every print, every trace, every fiber."
Andre's mind kept circling back to that shipping label.
CMDev.
Chapter
Twenty
Joy flexedher fingers beneath the gauze wrapping, testing the limits of her healing flesh. The burns that would have crippled a human for weeks were already knitting themselves back together. Sharp itches crawled across her palms like insects burrowing under skin. She sat at her parents' kitchen table, the familiar oak surface scarred from decades of family meals. Nothing about this moment felt familiar.
The phantom smell of burnt honey clung to her hair despite two showers. Each breath brought it back. Sweetness turned acrid. Life transformed to ash. Her mountain lion paced beneath her skin, muscles coiling and releasing in endless loops of grief and rage.
Her laptop screen glowed with another dead end. Ryan Holbrook. Pacific Northwest Investments. She'd been searching for an hour, finding nothing but clean corporate websites and vague mission statements. The man who'd studied her booth like a predator remained a ghost in the digital world.
Maria moved quietly around the kitchen, the soft clink of pottery punctuating the silence. A cup of tea appeared at Joy's elbow.Her mother's hand rested briefly on her shoulder, the warmth seeping through the flannel.
"You should rest."
"Can't." Joy's voice came out rough, scraped raw by smoke and screaming. "He knew, Mom. Holbrook knew what was coming."
The door burst open. Andre filled the doorway, still carrying the electric energy of the raid. His clothes bore dust from the warehouse, his jaw tight with barely contained fury. But when his eyes found hers, something in him shifted.
