“Duchess.” His gaze landed on her. “You know MI5 better than anyone here. Reach out to your contacts. Discreetly. I want to know what chatter there is on Grant, and if anyone’s asking the wrong questions.”
Her chin lifted. “Understood.”
“Titan, Hurricane.” He pointed next. “Run Oliver’s professional circle. Dig into his colleagues, his movements, any sudden money shifts. Use the overseas contacts if you have to. If he sneezes, I want to know which hand he used to cover his mouth.”
Titan smirked faintly. “Copy that.” Hurricane gave a short nod, already pulling up files.
“Snow, Reaper.” Bás’s voice cut through again. “Find out who those men in the van tonight were. IDs, associates, what work they’ve done since South Africa. I want to know who they answer to and who signs their paychecks.”
Reaper leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Oh, good. Grunt work. My favourite.”
Snow rolled her eyes, smacking his arm. “We’ll get it done.”
“Bishop.” Bás turned. “Grant’s family. Clara’s family. Friends, associates, who they owe money to, and who they haveinfluence with. If someone is pushing Clara into this marriage, I want to know why.”
Watchdog spoke before Bishop could respond, his voice cutting sharply through the air. “I already know why. Clara’s parents are in debt. Badly. Their home is at risk. Grant’s influence and money would secure it. They’ve been pushing her toward him for years, and now that his career’s on the rise, they’re using her sense of duty to save themselves.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Duchess’s expression hardened, while Val’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
Bishop gave a short nod. “Then I’ll confirm it, dig deeper. If money’s moving, I’ll find it.”
“Good,” Bás said. “Val, Lotus, you’re on Clara for now. Keep her safe, keep her fed, keep her calm. She’s not a prisoner, but she can’t walk out that door until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Lotus raised a brow. “You want me to play babysitter?”
“Yes,” Bás said flatly. “Because she’ll test limits, and you won’t let her get away with it. And because Watchdog will ignore his stitches if he thinks she’s uncomfortable. That make sense?”
Watchdog felt heat climb up the back of his neck. Lotus smirked knowingly. “Crystal clear.”
Bás’s gaze swept the table once more. “We work this together. We find the cracks, we pull the threads, and we end this before it touches one more hair on our family. Understood?”
A chorus of assent rumbled back at him. The team began to rise, the scrape of chairs and the hum of conversation filling the air as assignments took shape. Duchess already had her phone in hand. Snow and Reaper bickered good-naturedly as they headed toward the monitors. Titan clapped Hurricane’s shoulder, the two of them moving as one toward the data feeds.
Watchdog leaned back, letting the rhythm of it wash over him. The hum of voices, the flow of orders, the weight ofresponsibility distributed across capable hands, it steadied him. The world slipped back into something ordered, structured. Manageable.
He turned to his console, pulling up the feeds. Clara’s apartment appeared first. She was awake now, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hair loose around her shoulders, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She stared at the wall for a long moment before burying her face in her hands.
Watchdog’s chest tightened, but some part of him eased, too. She was alive. Here. Safe.
“Watchdog.” Bás’s voice cut across the monitors as the last of the team filed out. “Stay.”
He nodded, closing the feeds with a swipe.
When the room was empty, Bás crossed his arms, his gaze sharp. “What is Clara to you?”
Watchdog’s throat tightened. “I don’t know,” he admitted, the words clipped but true.
“Be careful with her,” Bás said.
“I won’t hurt her,” Watchdog replied at once.
“I’m not worried about her,” Bás countered.
The words cut deeper than a blade. Watchdog looked away, his jaw tightening.
Bás let the silence stretch, then shifted, his voice gentler. “How’s your mum?”
Watchdog dragged in a breath, steadying himself. “Not good. Most days, she doesn’t remember me. Some days she…some days she calls me by my father’s name. A man I’ve never known.” His voice cracked. “She’s slipping, Bás. And I can’t stop it.”
