“They didn’t bring any baby here.”

“You’re lying,” Rowan said, pressing the cold steel of the weapon against the man’s forehead.

“Rowan, stop,” Marcus said, stepping forward.

“He’s a hired hand. Look at his posture. He’s street muscle, not corporate security.”

The lead decoy shook his head rapidly, sweat dripping down his nose.

“I swear to God, I don’t have her,” he sobbed.

“The guy who hired us said the real transport went somewhere else.”

“Where?” Rowan roared, his grip tightening until the fabric of the jacket ripped.

“He said they were taking her to the main house,” the man said, his voice cracking.

“The big estate in the hills.”

I stepped forward, my breath catching in my throat.

“The Whitmore estate,” I whispered.

“They have an underground medical wing,” Marcus said, looking up from his tablet.

“Our intelligence showed construction there last year, but we couldn’t get the blueprints.”

“She’s there,” I said, the realization settling like lead in my stomach.

“Tessa has her at the house.”

Rowan let go of the man’s collar, letting him slump back onto the concrete.