Page 71 of Property of the Bikers

She’s read the completion clause.

She knows what it says.

She looks at Cade with steady eyes and a hand flat on the table that isn’t shaking, and the woman sitting in that chair is not the woman who got on a bus in Seattle four weeks ago with a fake ID and a bag she could carry, and she’s not the woman who sat on a barstool and handed over photographs and said if I were a setup I wouldn’t be alone.

She’s someone who has been inside this world long enough for it to change her, and the change went all the way down.

“Use it,” she says. “Spring the trap. End this.”

Cade looks at the contract for a long moment. Then he looks at me. “How long to build the counter-operation around this?”

“Forty-eight hours,” I say. “If we start today.”

He looks at the contract one more time.

“Start today,” he says.

Chapter Thirty-Two

MIRA

The main house feels different on Wednesday morning.

Not louder. Not busier. Just pointed in a way it hasn’t been for four weeks of siege, counterstrike, and waiting.

That was defensive energy. This is something else.

I feel it before I reach the planning room. A prospect in the hallway moves aside without being asked, the automatic adjustment of someone who knows the morning has weight. Through the wall, I can hear Ghost’s voice, low and unhurried, already running logistics with someone at seven in the morning because Ghost doesn’t wait for meetings to start working.

The room is already full when I push the door open.

Cade doesn’t look up from the hospital map, both hands flat on the table, eyes moving through the corridors like he’s already been inside them. Reeve has a second coffee sitting untouched to his right, which means he’s been here long enough for it to go cold and didn’t notice. Jax is the only one who looks at me when I come in, chair pushed back from the table, and whatever calculation he’s been running since yesterday is still running because I can see it in the way he holds his jaw.

Ghost doesn’t move at all. Arms crossed, eyes somewhere past the far wall. He’s already done. Doc has his medical bag on the floor at his feet like a man who came ready to work and is waiting for everyone else to catch up.

I sit down.

Nobody says good morning.

Reeve opens the folder.

“Friday,” he says. “Two days from today. Doc administers the contraction simulation tomorrow night, in the compound medical room, monitored throughout. Safe, reversible, no risk to the baby. By six AM Friday, Mira presents with symptoms consistent with a thirty-four-week preterm labor event.”

He turns a page. “She’s admitted to Millhaven Regional under Doc’s direct supervision. East wing, private floor. The moment the admission hits the scheduling system, Viktor’s appointment trigger activates. His team mobilizes from their current position, which I’ve been tracking since Sunday. Based on the approach plan Dmitri provided, they arrive at the hospital within ninety minutes of the trigger.”

He looks up. “They move on her position within two hours of admission.” A pause. “We’ll be there before they arrive.”

Ghost unfolds his arms. “Walk me through her exposure window. Specifically.”

“From admission to intercept, approximately two hours,” Reeve says. “During that window, she’s on the private floor with Doc, two of Ghost’s men positioned as orderlies, and a third covering the stairwell access point. Viktor’s team has to move through three controlled checkpoints before they reach her room.” He pauses. “They won’t reach the second one.”

Ghost looks at the hospital map. He traces the corridor from the east wing entrance to the private floor with one finger. “I want four men inside,” he says. “Not three. Four minimum, two on the floor, one on each access point.”

“Four,” Reeve agrees without hesitation.

Jax leans forward. “What exactly is her role?” he asks. “Because there’s a difference between Mira lying in a hospital bed while we run an operation around her and Mira actively participating in drawing Viktor’s team into position. Those are two different operations, and I want to know which one we’re planning.”

“Controlled positioning,” I say. “I maintain cover from admission until the signal. I stay in the role. If Viktor’s team reaches the floor, they see a woman in early labor who doesn’t know what’s coming. I give them enough to commit to the approach before Ghost’s team moves.”