Skye taps her own tablet. “His public schedule continues uninterrupted. Court appearances. Charity fundraiser. Not a hint that his wife is missing or that he’s under scrutiny.”
“Classic narcissist move,” Willow says, not looking up from the vegetables she’s chopping. “He thinks he’s untouchable.”
“He’s maintaining his routine,” Forest adds, “but his security detail has doubled, and his communications have gone dark.”
“Encrypted channels only,” Mitzy confirms. “But I’m making progress cracking them.”
Ryan gestures toward the tech wizard’s tablet. “How’s the case build going?”
Willow answers without looking up from her chopping. “Slow but steady. I want every ‘i’ dotted and ‘t’ crossed. It’s not just about Reynolds anymore—his network touches half a dozen agencies, two federal courts, and God knows how many politicians.”
“And if we move too fast, we tip our hand,” Mitzy adds, her focus never leaving her screen.
“We move carefully,” Forest agrees. “Methodically.”
“In the meantime?” Ryan asks.
“In the meantime,” Skye says, moving to stand beside Willow, “we keep working. Legal prep, security protocols, extraction contingencies if things go sideways.”
The front door opens with a gentle click that would be inaudible to most people but sets both Bear and Chaos instantly on alert. Bear launches himself off his cushion by the fireplace, bounding toward the entryway with surprising speed for his massive bulk. Chaos moves to flank him, a low, happy growl rumbling in his chest.
“Right on time,” Ryan mutters, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I nod. Martinez left two days ago to retrieve Cooper from the hospital. Their arrival this morning is right on schedule.
Cooper appears in the doorway, favoring his left leg but otherwise upright and whole. The bandages that had wrapped his thigh are gone, replaced by a compression sleeve justvisible beneath his cargo pants. He carries a duffel slung over one shoulder, and his face splits into a wide grin as Bear nearly knocks him over with an enthusiastic greeting.
“Easy, you beast,” he laughs, scratching behind the Newfoundland’s ears. “Don’t rip out my stitches.”
Willow is across the room in seconds, surprising everyone—maybe even herself—with how quickly she moves to hug him. “You’re okay,” she breathes, relief evident in her voice.
“Takes more than a little lead to keep me down, darlin’,” Cooper drawls, returning her hug with his free arm.
I follow more slowly, letting her have her moment before clasping forearms with my sniper, my brother. “Good to have you back in one piece.”
“Good to be back,” Cooper replies, his eyes conveying what words can’t—gratitude, brotherhood, the unbreakable bonds forged in battle. “Started climbing the walls after three days in that hospital bed.”
“Climbing the nurses, more like,” Martinez quips, appearing behind Cooper with a smirk. “Had to drag him out before someone married him.”
Laughter ripples through the room, genuine and warm, breaking the tension that’s been building for days. The team is whole again.
I watch them interact. Cooper settles at the table, wincing only slightly as he extends his injured leg; Martinez recounts the hospital escape with theatrical embellishment. Jackson enters from the training room to complete our circle. Ryan leans against the counter, steady as always. My brothers. My team.
And Willow, finding her footing among them, laughing at Cooper’s outrageous flirtation, her shoulders relaxed in a way they haven’t been since we arrived. The sight of her there, comfortable among these dangerous men, fills me with a fierce pride I can’t quite name.
Skye steps into the kitchen, her expression shifting the mood instantly. “Briefing in fifteen,” she announces. “We’ve got movement.”
Forest follows, nodding toward Cooper. “Glad you’re back. We’ll need all hands for this.”
The easy camaraderie fades, replaced by the focused energy that precedes action. We’ve been in a holding pattern for days—building the case, preparing Willow, waiting for the right moment to strike. That moment is approaching; I can feel it in the air like the static before a lightning strike.
Breakfast forgotten, we move as one unit toward the war room—the reinforced chamber at the center of the lodge where our most sensitive operations are planned. Forest takes his position at the head of the table. Skye and CJ flank him like sentinels. Mitzy immediately connects her tablet to the main display, fingers flying as she pulls up file after file.
“Let’s review what we know,” Forest begins, his deep voice commanding attention without effort. “Reynolds has maintained his public persona without interruption. No missing persons report for Willow. No sign he’s concerned about his security breach.”
“But his movements tell a different story,” CJ adds, tapping a command that brings up a series of surveillance photos. “Increased security. Closed-door meetings with known associates. And this…” He taps again, enlarging an image of Steffan Reynolds entering what appears to be a nondescript office building.
“That’s Drazen Kostic’s front company,” Willow says, leaning forward. “Serbian arms dealer. I documented at least three meetings between them last year.”
