Page 225 of Merciless Daddy

“And Yelena?”

I looked at the tablet in his hand.

A blinking dot sat over a warehouse district near the river.

“She is in that ambulance.”

Pietro’s face went still.

He did not tell me it might be a trap. He did not tell me to wait for more men.

He only gave the driver one word.

“Drive.”

The city broke around us in wet grey streaks. Sirens. Trucks. Winter trees. Every red light was a personal insult.

I called Yelena’s phone.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

It rang until voicemail took it.

I ended the call before the message began. I could not hear her voice yet. Not while I still had a chance of reaching her.

The warehouse stood behind a chain-link fence with a Halberd logo half-peeled from the loading door.

The gate had been cut open. No guards. No lights. No movement. Pietro’s team went in first. I followed before anyone could order otherwise.

The ambulance waited in the center of the loading bay.

Genuine. Empty.

Its back doors stood open.

Inside were discarded firefighter coats. Cheap masks. A medical bag filled with nothing useful. A spent syringe. A black restraint loop cut clean through, though not by Yelena. The plastic was too thick. Too deliberate.

On the concrete beside the vehicle lay an evacuation hood.

Clear plastic. Yellow collar.

Dark honey hair caught in the seal.

I picked it up.

My hands were steady. That frightened me more than if they had shaken.

“She was transferred,” Pietro said quietly.

“To what?”

“We don’t know.”

I stared into the hollow ambulance.