“Record everything,” she says quietly. “Every threat. Every admission. I want it all for the court.”
“Consider it done,” Mitzy promises.
Reynolds continues his monologue, each word digging his grave deeper, each gesture providing more evidence for Willow to use against him. And all the while, Mitzy’s trap closes around him, silent and invisible, gathering everything we need to annihilate him.
My focus remains on Willow, on the transformation happening before my eyes. She’s no longer a victim. No longer hunted. She’s a predator, hunting her prey.
Damn, I love this amazing woman.
TWENTY-THREE
Willow
Steffan continues his monologue,unaware he’s performing for an audience that’s already three steps ahead. “I’ve been patient, sweetheart. Given you time to come to your senses. But my patience is running out.”
I can feel Mason beside me, his body radiating tension. His hand hovers near mine, not quite touching. Giving me space to process this moment.
“You’ve always been clever, Willow,” Steffan says on screen. “Too clever for your own good, but this little game ends now.”
Something clicks inside me. A final piece shifting into place.
“We need to use this,” I say, my voice cutting through the room’s tension.
Forest turns to me, one bushy eyebrow raised. “Use it how?”
“He thinks he’s found us,” I say, gesturing toward the screen where Steffan continues his threats. “Mitzy, does your trap show him a location? Something he believes is our hideout?”
Mitzy nods. “The decoy server farm is presenting as a remote property in northern Idaho. Basic security protocols, nothing that would suggest Guardian-level defenses.”
“Then we set a trap.” The words feel right as I say them. Powerful. “We let him come to us. Let him think he’s found me. But we control the ground.”
Mason shifts beside me. “Absolutely not. We move you to a more secure?—”
“No.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m done running.”
The room goes silent. Mason’s eyes darken with concern, but I see something else there too.
Pride.
“He expects me to be cowering,” I continue. “Let’s show him who I’ve become.”
Forest strokes his beard, considering. “It has tactical advantages. Choose our ground, set the terms of engagement.”
“It’s too risky,” Mason argues, but his tone lacks conviction.
I step closer to him, close enough that only he can hear my next words. “I need this. I need to face him on my terms. Not in a courtroom surrounded by his people, but somewhere I know I’m not alone.”
His jaw works as he processes my words. Then, slowly, he nods.
“We’d need to secure a location,” Forest says, already shifting to planning mode. “Not here, obviously. Somewhere we can control completely.”
“The Blackwater safe house,” CJ suggests. “It’s been partially decommissioned. Perfect cover.”
“We capture him alive,” I say firmly. “He needs to face justice for everything he’s done. His network needs to be exposed.”
Forest exchanges a look with Mason that I can’t quite interpret. Then he nods. “Capture, not kill. That’s the mission.”
As they begin hammering out details, CJ steps away briefly, phone to his ear. I catch fragments: “Charlie team… Immediate deployment… Full tactical… Ethan, your team only…”
