Page 63

Timed.

Precise.

Ninety seconds.

That’s all it took.

My comm slams back to life.

“Aaron! They hit the grid—looped the cams—we lost visual!”

“Ninety seconds was enough,” I snap.

My grip tightens on the railing hard enough to feel the strain in my bones.

Too late.

I was right here.

And I left.

Then I see it.

On the table inside.

A phone.

Not hers.

Placed.

Deliberate.

I grab it, thumb hitting the screen.

One message.

You should have stayed in the box.

Something in me goes still.

Cold.

Controlled.

Dangerous.

I crush the phone in my hand.

Ronan’s voice cuts in, sharp. “We’ve got a vehicle—black van, no plates, heading east.”

“I’m coming.”

“You’re five minutes out.”

“Then I’ll make it three.”

I’m already moving.