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I watched Katherine sleep in the dim light filtering through the blinds. Her blonde hair spread across the pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek. Peaceful. Safe.

My ribs ached like hell, but I didn't move. Didn't want to risk waking her.

She'd taken care of me tonight. Insisted on it. Wouldn't let me minimize the injuries or play tough guy. She'd been fierce about it, protective in a way that made my chest tight for reasons that had nothing to do with cracked bones.

I'd never felt so cared for in my entire life.

My parents loved me in their distant, diplomatic way. Jase and the cousins had my back. The Army had given me purpose and brotherhood.

But Katherine? She'd looked at my broken body and refused to let me pretend I was fine. She'd made love to me like I was precious, like I mattered more than the mission or the danger or anything else.

I stroked her hair gently, careful not to wake her.

Now, I just need to figure out a way to keep her safe.

I eased off the bed, every movement sending sharp protests through my ribs. Katherine didn't stir. Exhaustion had finally won.

I pulled on my jeans and a t-shirt and opened the bedroom door. Sophie’s door was still closed. I moved to the other room where I'd set up my laptop on the dining table. The screen glowed in the darkness, already open to my tracking programs.

Fuck, how could one tech nerd, as Sophie had called him, keep slipping through my fingers?

Russell Dunlap had gone to ground. Probably paying cash for some flophouse in downtown LA, using a disposable phone and VPN so he could still monitor everything. The guy was smart, careful, and paranoid. All the qualities that made him good at his job also made him impossible to track.

I tried anyway. Ran searches on Russell's known email addresses, social media accounts, credit cards again. All dormant. Nothing in the last twenty-four hours.

My phone buzzed with a text. Thompson.

URGENT. Viktor Sokolov left Moscow 10 hours ago. Private jet manifest shows 8 additional passengers. All Russian nationals.

Jesus fucking Christ. That was all we needed.

I typed back.

ETA?

The three dots appeared, showing Thompson was typing.

2-3 hours. Direct flight to LAX.

Two hours. Maybe three if we were lucky.

I stared at the message. Viktor Sokolov was coming to Los Angeles personally. Bringing a team. That meant this was critical, worth risking exposure and international attention.

My phone buzzed again.

Hold on. More intel coming.

I waited, watching the screen.

A secure file transfer notification appeared. I opened it.

Thompson had found and hacked Russell's cloud storage.

The first document was a client list. My blood went cold reading through it.

Russell hadn't just targeted Katherine and Eddie Pope. He'd created deepfakes of five other victims. Four corporate executives from Fortune 500 companies. One US senator from a swing state.