Beau exhales quietly. “Bratva. He’s not just good, he’s patient. He’ll sit on a target for hours if he has to. Doesn’t rush, doesn’t hesitate. If he’s coming for you, you won’t see it until it’s already done.”
Brooke’s grip tightens against the edge of the chair.
“Who else?” she asks.
Beau scans the rest.
“Dmitri Sokolov,” he says. “Another Bratva operator.”
His finger moves down the screen.
“Diego Cruz. Cartel. Close range, fast, messy.”
A pause.
“Jackson Reed. Ex-military. Thinks he’s disciplined.”
He keeps going.
“Ava Carpenter. Freelance. Quiet, but she leaves traces.”
Another name.
“Ezra Kane. Independent. Tracks first, hesitates second.”
Beau’s jaw tightens slightly as he leans back.
“I’ve crossed paths with a few of them,” he says. “They’re not competition. Just persistent.”
There is a quiet edge under his voice now, something colder.
“That won’t matter.”
He glances back at the list.
“Most of them are amateurs.”
I let out a short breath. “Good.”
Travis frowns at me. “Good?”
“Yes,” I say. “It means they’ll rush instead of thinking.”
Beau adds, “Hopefully they won’t coordinate well. Everyone wants the payout. Everyone wants the footage.”
Travis scrolls. “Some of these people specialize in capture.”
Brooke doesn’t look away from the screen. “Kristie wants me killed on camera.”
“Yup,” Beau says. “She wants spectacle.”
Travis rubs his face. “If you don’t disappear, they’ll converge.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “We don’t chase them. We don’t hide from them.”
Beau’s mouth lifts slightly. “We bait them.”
Travis looks between us. “You’re talking about inviting ten killers into your orbit.”
