“Already done.”
Good. One less problem.
“What about here?” I ask.
Christian gestures toward the far side of the warehouse.
“Mateo landed a few hours ago. We tracked movement to the docks. Vargas warehouse.”
“So we hit it.”
Lucian smiles faintly.
“I thought you’d say that.”
I look between them.
“We’re not waiting.”
Christian studies me for a moment.
“You follow our lead.”
I frown.
“I’m not—”
“You’re not getting yourself killed tonight,” Lucian cuts in quietly, stepping closer. “You’re no use to Lia dead.”
The words land harder than they should. Christian doesn’t look at me, but I know he’s listening.
“We move first,” he says calmly. “You follow. You don’t break formation unless I tell you to.”
Every instinct in me pushes against that. Because I want to go in. I want to end it. I want to make sure there is nothing left that can ever touch her again.
But that’s exactly the problem. Lucian glances at me.
“Control,” he says quietly. “That’s what keeps you alive in this world. Not rage.”
I don’t respond. But I don’t argue again either.
Christian gives the signal and we move.
The docks are quieter than they should be. Not empty. Not safe. Just wrong in that way that tells you something is waitingbeneath the surface, something held tight and ready to snap the second pressure is applied.
Christian lifts a hand before we breach.
Everything stops. I feel it immediately, the difference between what I’ve been doing and what this actually is.
This isn’t rage. This isn’t reaction. This is structured. Deliberate. Lucian steps in closer to me, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“You stay behind us.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
“I’m not—”
“You’re not getting yourself killed tonight,” he repeats, quieter this time. “You’re no use to her dead.”
