Page 55 of Wraith: Lethal Impact

"Satellite confirms." Ivy taps a new key command. "Multiple heat signatures in the subterranean levels. At least forty hostiles patrolling the perimeter. It's a fortress."

"Then we breach the perimeter." I stare at the red dot. "We have the location."

"It's suicide for five operators." Bronco shakes his head, leaning over the console. "We're outmanned and operating off the grid. Hutch isn't going to send a cavalry to pull us out if we get pinned down."

"We don't need a cavalry." I keep my voice flat. "We hit them fast. Prioritize the holding cells, extract the captives, and burn the rest."

"Stop thinking like a hammer, Wraith." Ivy holds up a hand, cutting off the tactical debate. She drags a new spreadsheet onto the main display. "We don't need brute force. Look at these vendor payments from the last forty-eight hours."

I look at the screen. The numbers are staggering. "That's a massive volume of alcohol."

"Alcohol, high-end catering, and private transport." Ivy's eyes track the data columns. "They aren't just holding girls down there. They're hosting an auction tonight. And these outbound transport logs? High-level Consortium couriers, scheduled to extract the sold assets under cover of the party."

Cipher nods, catching her drift. "A party means external contractors, staff, noise, and distracted guards."

"Exactly." Ivy taps the screen. "We don't lay siege to the building. We slip in through the logistical blind spots. Give me twenty minutes with these files to map the vendor delivery routes."

The mood in the room shifts from desperate last stand to calculated infiltration. The prospect of a surgical strike sharpens the team's focus.

Cipher seats the drive back into the compass housing and snaps the back plate into place. He crosses to Lily and settles the chain into her palm. "The original rides with its keeper. The copy lives on my tablet. If anyone ever cracks that casing open, they'll find what they expect to find."

I turn back to Lily.

She stares at the map, the reality of the coming violence reflected in her green eyes.

"You stay here." My voice leaves no room for negotiation. "Ivy stays with you. She'll secure the perimeter, and you can help her monitor the comms."

She looks at me, the defiance returning. "I'm going."

"Lily." The exhaustion bleeds into my tone. "Please."

The single word is a devastating concession. The sniper never begs. The operator never pleads. But the man standing in front of her is terrified of losing the only light he's found in five years of darkness.

She hesitates, the anger warring with the realization of what that word cost me.

"I'll bring her back." I reach out, my calloused fingers brushing her pale cheek. The weapon and the grace, side by side. "I swear to you, I'll bring Andrea back. But I can't do my job if I'm worrying about a bullet finding you."

She leans into my touch, her eyes closing. A ragged sigh escapes her. The dancer concedes the physical battle, trusting the killer to execute the violent choreography she cannot perform.

"Okay." She opens her eyes, vulnerability shining through the steel. "But you come back to me, Dax Calloway."

"Always."

She doesn't pull away. Her gaze drops, and a heavy flush creeps up her neck. The porcelain ballerina is gone, replaced by a woman fiercely aware of the countdown clock ticking above our heads.

"How long do we have?" Her voice drops to a register that bypasses my Kevlar and goes straight into my bloodstream.

"We don't deploy until oh-dark-thirty."

"What does that mean?"

"The dead hour before dawn. We don't hit the party—we hit the couriers leaving it." The tactical discipline fractures. The sniper is now very distracted. "We have the whole night."

"Good." She steps closer, sliding her hand down the webbing of my vest until her fingers curl into the fabric at my waist. "Because before you go—I want you to teach me how to give you a blowjob."

The oxygen vanishes from my lungs. The entire building could collapse and I wouldn't feel the impact.

I drop my spare magazine onto the crate. The metallic clack is deafening.