“What are you going to do?” he asked.

I let the gun lower slightly, but kept it aimed at his chest.

An idea formed, cold and precise.

“You are going to send a new message,” I said.

I handed him the burner phone.

“Tell them the generator failed completely,” I instructed.

“What else?” he asked, his hand trembling as he took the phone.

“Tell them I am panicking,” I said. “Tell them I am moving the twins to the old fish cannery by the south pier.”

The cannery was a decayed wooden structure on the water, isolated and surrounded by open marsh.

It was the perfect place for an ambush, but Sterling would see it as a cornered man’s last refuge.

“If they think you’re on the move, they’ll bring everyone,” Miller said.

“That is the point,” I said. “Tell them we leave in twenty minutes.”

“They have shooters, Ryker. Professional ones.”

“So do I,” I said. “Type the message.”

His thumb hovered over the keypad.

He typed the words slowly, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“It is sent,” he said, holding the screen up for me to see.