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CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tank sat in the dimly lit cabin, surrounded by the low murmur of his team members going through last-minute preparations. The hum of the plane's engines created a constant background noise as the team flew toward Chicago. His eyes flickered between the small window offering a view of the clouds below and the map on the screen displaying their flight path.
Kaylie, seated across the aisle, maintained a tense silence. Tank's gaze lingered on her, a fleeting concern etched in his features. He wished he could offer her the comfort she sought, but the weight of responsibility kept him tethered to the mission.
Upon landing, the team disembarked, greeted by the biting cold of the Chicago night. Tank could feel the chill seeping through his jacket, but he shrugged it off.
Within twenty minutes, the team arrived at their safe house. The secure location Miranda had chosen for their impromptu headquarters was an abandoned office building on the outskirts of south Chicago. Hidden among the industrial complexes and vacant warehouses, it would provide privacy, and no one would ask any questions around here. Fluorescent overhead lights—at least half of them burned out—cast a strangely grayish light in the room. It was sparsely furnished; just a desk and a handful of armchairs like it was a bank waiting area. But they’d brought a significant number of supplies with them from Miranda. Hard black cases on wheels held weapons, tech, cots, and even MREs, if past experience told him anything.
Connor fiddled with a computer case, until Joey's voice crackled over the secure communication line, her words filtered through the ambient hum of electronic equipment.
"I've been digging into Citadel's activities in Chicago for hours, but it's like they've never been there. No digital footprint, no known associates. It's as if they've erased themselves from the city's data grid."
Tank clenched his jaw, frustration mounting as the realization settled in. Citadel's ability to stay hidden showcased their formidable expertise. He glanced at the map on the table, the city's grid sprawled before him like a puzzle missing crucial pieces.
“Keep at it, Joey. We need something to point us in the right direction,” Tank responded. He’d been hoping Joey would pull out something so he could avoid facing the plans he’d put in place before boarding the plane.
The team huddled around the metal desk, a makeshift command center. Tank's gaze shifted to Kaylie, who sat on the edge of a worn-out chair. She picked at her nails and looked absently around the space. The vacant look in her eyes darn near gutted him. He’d give anything to bring the brightness and laughter back into them.
What would happen if they couldn’t get Lia back?
He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought. It wasn’t an option, which meant that if Joey didn’t have the information they needed in the next thirty minutes, his time was up.
Kaylie must have felt him watching her because she looked up. Tank swallowed thickly as she rose to her feet. She wrapped the sweater tighter around her frail frame, tucking it against her waist with one arm as she walked over to him.
“Anthony…” The forlorn plea faded into a choked sob.
In two steps, Tank had circled the desk and wrapped Kaylie in his arms. Whatever thoughts he had about keeping her at a distance were gone the moment she crumbled in front of him.
He led her to an empty corner of the room and just held her in silence.
“Please don’t hate me,” she said.
“Never, fiamella,” he reassured her, holding her tightly in his arms.
A few more minutes passed. “I feel like we need to talk about some things,” she admitted through sniffles, her face buried in his shoulder.
“Probably,” he agreed, not knowing whether he was planning to push her away or claim her further when they finally got around to that conversation. “But we’ll get Lia back first, okay?”
She nodded softly, and he pulled away, creating some distance between them. Immediately, he missed the way she fit perfectly in the crook of his arms.
Then he glanced at his watch, dreading the realization that his time was up. “I have to go,” he announced. “I’ll be back in about three hours.”
Ryder started to ask a question, but Tank shut him down with a glare. He didn’t want to have to play this card, but they were out of options. He’d set the appointment before they left Virginia, hoping he could cancel it when they arrived. But Joey still had nothing, which meant he had to.
Kaylie's eyes met Tank's, confusion and concern swirling in their depths. She opened her mouth, likely about to protest or question his sudden departure, but he flashed her a look that stifled any words.
Jackson shot him a quizzical glance, and Marshall raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. Tank's jaw tightened, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. If he told his team what he was planning, no doubt they would try to talk him out of it.
As Ryder stood, the scraping of the chair on the worn floor seemed louder than it should be. Kaylie's gaze followed him, her brow furrowed with uncertainty.
Tank walked toward the exit, his steps purposeful but heavy. The mission was paramount, and sacrifices had to be made, even if it meant leaving the team in the dark.
With a final glance back at the makeshift command center, he stepped into the cold Chicago night, the door closing behind him with a muted thud. The air outside held a crisp chill, but Tank couldn't shake the warmth of guilt settling in his chest. The next hours would help determine the fate of Lia, and Tank couldn't afford any distractions, not even the ones that tugged at his conscience.
He drove the Chicago streets, the city lights reflecting off the darkened buildings as he quickly completed the first undesirable task of the evening. Then he drove along a side street until the meeting point loomed ahead—a nondescript alley where shadows clung to the brick walls.
