Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
When Russo had answered his phone, I’d wanted so badly to believe it was Roque on the other end—that he’d somehow tracked us faster than anyone expected. But the way Russo had spoken had proven it wasn’t that kind of call. His tone hadn’t held wariness or caution—it had held pride and satisfaction. He wasn’t trying to outmaneuver someone dangerous, he was reporting in to someone he worked with. Someone he feared.
And then there’d been the words.
“We have them.”
Not “I have them.” Not “They’re here.” We.
That one word had told me everything—he wasn’t at the top of the food chain. He was part of something bigger—an organization or a network of men pulling strings from the shadows. Whoever he was talking to, Russo had been reassuring him and letting him know that now, with me and the kids locked away, they had power over Roque.
Except they didn’t.
Because Roque wasn’t the kind of man to break under pressure, he wasn’t someone you could hold hostage by proxy. If anything, they’d just made the worst mistake of their lives—because now, Roque would burn the world down to get us back. I knew him and saw how he protected people he barely knew. He carried the weight of others' pain like it was his own.
I turned my gaze back to the window, the dull light casting long shadows across the basement. Maybe I couldn’t see out of it, and perhaps it didn’t lead to a quick escape or hold some obvious clue, but it was something. It was a flaw in the walls built to keep us here, and when Roque came for us, he’d be searching for every crack in their plan.
I just had to find a way to help him spot this one. Because no matter what Russo thought, this wasn’t power, it was desperation disguised as control.
And Roque would never stop until we were safe.
Chapter 28
Roque
Judd’s voice was calm and steady, the kind of tone you used when trying to soothe a wounded animal that might lash out. “They want leverage, Roque. That’s all this is. And you don’t kill your leverage, that’s how we know they’re alive and okay.”
I nodded once, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. I knew that, and I’d told myself the same thing a dozen times in the past hour. It was the only thread of logic I could hold on to without unraveling. If this were about control—if Russo wanted to use me—they’d keep Sayla and the kids safe. They’d have to for their plan to work.
But it wasn’t the ifs that were killing me, it was the hows. Not knowing where they were or what was happening to them was eating me alive. My mind kept circling and spiraling through images I couldn’t stop or control. Kaida crying and being scared, Kairo trying to be brave when he shouldn’t have to be, and Sayla forced to protect them both with nothing but her own body and will.
The others had gathered there because it was neutral, secure, and off the grid enough not to draw attention. But I couldn’t stop moving. My skin felt too tight. I needed to do something—anything—besides wait.
Imogen and Judd stood at the far end of the room, a dry-erase board propped against the wall between two windows, already filled with names. The list wasn’t short—officers who’d brushed too close to corruption and were caught intimidating witnesses or planting evidence, only to get slapped on the wrist. Or worse, have “no further action” stamped across their files like that was justice.
Looking at the board, I could feel it in the room—none of us had said it yet, not directly, but it was there in the way everyone moved. The job had rotted under us. The thing we were supposed to believe in, to fight for, had been festering with filth and cover-ups for years, and we were only now starting to peel back the layers.
Beside the names, they were writing addresses—places tied to the syndicate. Safe houses, storage facilities, laundromats, rentals, and any location loosely associated with Titian’s crew went on the list. Kapono was already out checking them one by one. He’d radio in every few minutes with a quick update, and each message made my chest tighten a little more.
Keir finally snapped, storming over to the table and flipping open his laptop. “Screw this,” he muttered. “We’re not doing enough.”
He started typing furiously, pulling up names of known associates, checking tax records, and matching linked addresses. The mayor, his family, his staff, and his new security detail could all be tied into this deeper than we’d guessed.
“Send it all to Kapono,” Judd said without looking up. “Make sure he doesn’t hit them alone.”
We were still in the thick of it when Judd’s phone rang. He stepped away to take it, his posture going stiff the moment he answered. The call didn’t last long, and when he returned, his expression had shifted—more puzzled than worried but not relaxed either.