“He expects a trap,” I said. “But he expects a corporate trap from Victor, not a physical ambush from us.”

“He knows you are with us, Maeve,” Roman said.

“He thinks I am a prisoner,” I said. “He thinks you are using me to find his hidden ledgers.”

I took a deep breath, the damp air of the safehouse filling my lungs.

“If he thinks I am escaping from you, he will try to intercept me,” I said.

“You are not going near him as bait,” Declan said, his voice dropping an octave.

“It is the only way he stays at the warehouse,” I argued. “If he sees only you, he will run into the river.”

“She is right, Declan,” Roman said from the doorway.

“I do not like it,” Declan growled.

“We do not have to like it,” Roman said. “We only have to finish it.”

We walked out of the safehouse, the cold rain hitting my face instantly.

The street was dark, the streetlights completely dead for three blocks in either direction.

We climbed back into the car, Declan starting the engine with a low rumble.