Stuart exhaled. “Go. I’ll be on the first flight out of New York.”
The call ended.
Theo turned back to the map, his eyes locked on the pulsing dot. “We’re on the clock. That signal could drift—off by a hundred meters. Easily, if it is a civilian tracker. We need to move fast and quietly. If they see us coming before we reach her…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t have to.
“The rest of the team is assembling downstairs now. I’ve been keeping them up-to-date,” Markos said from the doorway. “We’ll be ready to move in ten.”
Theo turned to Alexandros. “You stay here. We go in.”
Alexandros’s glare could’ve scorched steel.
“She’s mine, Theo.”
“And that’s why you don’t go in. You’re too close. One mistake—one slip—and she dies. Let us do this.”
Alexandros didn’t speak. He had to trust Theo. He had no otherchoice. He drew a shuddering breath and gave Theo a short, sharp nod.
Theo turned back to the room. “I want schematics. Old blueprints. Sewer access. Drone footage—whatever we can get. Demetrius, keep the local authorities out of the area. I don’t care what you have to do. Rob a bank if you have to. Just don’t let them engage.”
“We’ll keep the area secure,” Demetrius promised.
Demetrius’s team scattered into motion.
Organized chaos erupted—calls made, favors called in, routes mapped, equipment loaded. Weapons readied.
Theo moved with a general’s purpose. Every clipped command sliced through the tension like a blade.
“We have one focus. We get in. We locate the girl. We neutralize the threat. We bring her home alive.”
He looked once more at the red dot.
“I’ve done missions for kings, generals, and billionaires,” he muttered. “But this one… this one matters most.”
Hope flickered in his chest—thin, but fierce.
Hold on, Dani,he thought, his jaw tight with determination.We’re coming for you—and hell’s coming with us.
The plastic strap bit deep into Dani’s wrist, slick with blood and sweat. She had twisted, tugged, even tried a trick she once saw on social media—wedging the hem of her skirt under the strap and yanking—but the plastic refused to give. Her skin was raw. Her fingers ached. But she kept at it.
Until finally—defeated—she let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.
Her breath trembled in and out.
Gripping the bottle of water between her knees, she uncapped it, poured a splash onto her skirt, and used the damp fabric to clean away the blood from her wrist. The cuts stung fiercely—but pain meant she was still here. Still fighting.
Her eyes lifted toward the small window near the ceiling. The angle of the light had changed. How long had it been? Hours?
Too long.
Her bladder ached, but the thought of Zayan returning—touching her, even speaking to her again—froze her in place. She’d rather piss herself than give him that power.
She closed her eyes, her heart twisting as a fresh wave of fear surged through her.
Alexandros must be frantic by now.
