“If you hurt her, Rowan will find you,” I said, my knuckles turning white.

“Rowan is currently walking into a very expensive distraction,” she replied.

The line went dead with a dry click.

I stared at the black screen, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

On the dashboard, the tactical radio Rowan had left behind crackled with static.

Marcus’s voice came through, low and metallic.

“Bypass successful. We are moving in.”

I grabbed the black receiver, my thumb finding the push-to-talk button.

“Rowan, wait,” I spoke into the mic, my voice urgent.

“Rowan, can you hear me? Tessa just called.”

Only static hissed back at me.

“Rowan, she said it’s a trap. Clara isn’t there.”

A voice cut through the noise, but it was Marcus, his tone clipped.

“Maren, stay off this channel. We are entering the main bay now.”

I pressed my forehead against the cold steering wheel, listening to the audio feed.

The radio picked up the dull thud of heavy boots on concrete.

There was a sharp hiss of pneumatic seals breaking.

“Thermal imaging shows three signatures near the center,” Marcus reported.