7. Cam
My phone pings. She’s left the office—off to her spin class, like clockwork. Predictable to a fault.
With the Manticore Network closing in, I can’t afford complacency. Every minute counts now. I need to be ready to move the second the ground shifts.
Talia’s already tracking their patterns, trying to carve a timeline out of smoke. If she manages to pin something down, she’ll send it over. At least then I’ll have a better idea of when the hammer’s going to fall.
Until then, I’m stuck operating at a distance.
I pull my hood up, hands shoved deep in my pockets as I step out into the chill. The air bites—a quiet warning that summer’s packing its bags. The streets have lost their glow, and the wind cuts sharper at night. Riding’s been fun, but that window’s closing. I’ve taken too many spills in the rain to keep pretending it’s still safe.
Her GPS ping is on the move, and I follow like the silent shadow I am, keeping enough distance to remain hidden. She’s with her friend tonight though, which is out of the ordinary for her. She usually attends spin class alone.
I can’t quite see her friends face, but I make note to find out about her later. If Manticore are after Darcy, there’s a chance they could try and snatch this girl too if she’s not careful. They have a habit of that, moving onto girls close to the victim.
The tall glass windows allow me to watch with ease, the lights so bright inside they might as well be in a fishbowl. You would have thought a gym would offer a little more privacy than this, but it’s not my place to judge. It’s just… if it was me, I would have chosen a more… enclosed gym.
Thankfully I don’t have to worry about that, there are perks to having a house with too many rooms to count, one of them being a home gym. No waiting for machines, no small talk, just me and myself, the way I like it.
I sip my coffee from the safety of the corner shop, the window offering the perfect vantage point. Every few seconds, my gaze flicks back to them—just a casual sweep to make sure no one suspicious is loitering nearby. So far, so good.
It’s actually kind of entertaining. A parade of flushed faces and flailing limbs, all puffing and panting their way through the final stretch. Darcy’s friend is the standout—still clinging to that monstrous cap like it’s part of her identity. She looks seconds from collapse. Maybe it was a pity invite. Maybe Darcy just needed a buffer.
When the class finally winds down, they drift off toward Darcy’s house, laughing too loud, utterly oblivious to everything beyond their chat. Still, I’m oddly relieved she has company tonight. Even if it’s just this one girl—it’s another set of eyes, another body. The kind of thing the Manticore prefer to avoid.
Once they’re safely inside I dip back into the darkness, heading home for the night to do a little more research on Darcy’s friend. She might need as much protection as Darcy if they’ve got her name on their hit list.
But my phone is already buzzing away, a grounding reminder that no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I’m always on call.
“Talia—”
“They’re mobilising tomorrow. Intel confirms target extraction scheduled for 2200 hours. They’ll intercept her en route from the gym—standard snatch-and-go. You’ll need to be in position and prepped. You kitted out and ready?”
“Yeah, I’m set. Is everyone else in position? Once they’re neutralised, we’ll need to move fast.”
“We’re ready. Say the word and we’re on you.”
“Appreciate it, Talia. Talk tomorrow.”
God. After months of near misses and girls slipping through our fingers, we’re finally in striking distance. These bastards are about to feel the full weight of it.
Darcy’s safe house is already locked down. The basement’s prepped for the snatchers—reinforced and rigged for answers. We’re going to dig through this nest of snakes, even if it means torching every inch of it on the way out.
They’re moving quicker than usual. Makes me wonder what’s got them rattled. Doesn’t matter. We’re ready. Me and the team.
Back home, I double-check the dart gun—loaded, primed, and I prop it by the front door next to the bag which is packed with tape, rope, and a transport kit. Everything’s in place. One last sweep of the house, then I arm the alarm and head upstairs.
The final quiet before the storm. Or something like that.
My mind races at one hundred miles an hour, plotting through every scenario, every way this can go wrong. I refuse to let them slip through my fingers again, this time we’re ready.
Talia will have the team on standby, close by but not too close, waiting for my signal. It will run smoothly.
It has to.