Chapter 18
The Mercer gala was the key. Ghost had been saying it for weeks, and now, with Levi's death exposing their vulnerability, Marcus agreed.
"The gala is in four days," Ghost said, his laptop open to a spread of documents, floor plans, and social media photos that he'd been compiling for months.
"Detroit Foundation for Human Rights annual fundraiser.
Black tie. Five hundred guests. Mercer will be there, he's the honorary chair, he can't not show. "
"Security?" Marcus asked.
"Private firm. Armed but sloppy, they're event security, not tactical. More concerned with drunk rich people than an actual breach." Ghost pulled up a floor plan. "The Westin Book Cadillac. Grand ballroom, third floor. VIP room on four."
"And we care about the VIP room because...?"
"Because that's where Mercer does his real networking. Away from the cameras, away from the donors who think they're funding legitimate anti-trafficking work. The VIP room is where he meets the people who keep his operation running."
Seth was at the table, listening with coiled stillness, calculating. Zain watched him and saw the wheels turning.
The room went quiet. Zain could feel the decision forming around the table like weather, the shift in pressure, the static charge of an idea that was dangerous and correct and that he wanted, with every cell of his being, to argue against.
Because Seth was right. The logic was flawless. Ghost needed physical access. The crew was known. Seth was invisible, a dead man, an erased person, someone Mercer's security wouldn't flag because he didn't exist in any system they monitored.
But the logic didn't account for what it would cost Seth to walk into that room.
To serve drinks to the man who'd kept him in a cage.
To smile and nod and play the part of the invisible worker while his body remembered the fluorescent lights and the chain-link and the sound of Tomás being kicked on the factory floor.
Zain knew what that cost looked like. He'd watched Rodriguez's betrayal eat through his own composure for years, the way certain sounds triggered it, certain silences, the quality of a handshake that felt like a lie.
Trauma wasn't a thing you processed and filed away.
It was a tenant. It lived in your body and surfaced without warning and turned the ordinary world into a minefield.
He wanted to say no. He wanted to say I just got you and I can't lose you to a room full of monsters wearing tuxedos. He wanted to cross the table and put his hands on Seth's face and say you've already been brave enough for a lifetime, let someone else carry this one.
He said none of it. Because Seth wasn't asking permission. Seth was stating a fact. And Zain had spent the past six weeks learning that the most important thing he could give this man wasn't protection, it was respect for his choices.
"If he goes," Zain said, "I'm in the building."
"Obviously," Marcus said.
"I should go," Seth said.
"No." Zain's response was immediate. Reflexive.
"Hear me out. "
"It's a room full of people who kept you in a cage."
"It's a room full of people who think I'm dead. That's an advantage."
Marcus held up a hand. Silence.
"Explain," Marcus said to Seth.
"Ghost needs confirmation. Digital evidence, financial records, connection between Mercer and the trafficking sites.
If someone can get into that VIP room, a phone clone, a recording device, something Ghost can use, that's the link you need.
" Seth's voice was steady. Professional.
The voice of a man who'd learned operational thinking from watching these men for three weeks.
"I can blend in. I clean up well enough to pass for catering staff or a junior donor.
Nobody's going to recognize the skinny meth head from the warehouse in a suit. "
Ghost looked up from his screen. "He's not wrong."
"Ghost," Zain warned.
"He's not. I've been trying to get physical access to Mercer's network for months. A device planted in the VIP room would give me everything, communications, financial data, the whole chain. But I can't do it remotely. Someone needs to be in that room."
"Then send Jack," Zain said. "Send Nate."
"Jack has the subtlety of a car alarm," Nate said mildly. "And I'm known. I've been on surveillance for weeks. Mercer's security team might have my face."
"Elijah?"
Elijah, from his corner, "I don't do crowds."
The room turned back to Seth.
Zain felt something tighten in his chest, the same compression he used as a weapon, turned against him. The fear wasn't rational. Seth was capable. Seth was smart. Seth was, against all odds, becoming someone who could handle himself in exactly this kind of situation.
But the fear wasn't about capability. It was about loss. About sending the person who had become the most important variable in his life into a room full of people who had already destroyed him once.
Seth met his eyes across the table. Green and steady and asking, not for permission, but for trust.
"I'll go with him," Zain said.
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"Two-man team. Seth plants the device. I run security. We're in and out in ninety minutes."
"In a tuxedo?" Jack said. "This I gotta see."
"I clean up fine."
"You clean up like someone stuffed a grenade into a penguin suit."
"Jack."
"I'm supporting you, I'm just also enjoying this."
Marcus looked between Zain and Seth. That deep, measuring look.
"Done," Marcus said. "Ghost, get them what they need."