Chapter 30
Rico
A clean operation leaves nothing behind.
No movement. No noise. No loose ends.
This wasn’t clean.
I’m already moving before the words fully settle, ignoring the pull at my side because it doesn’t matter—not right now. Pain is irrelevant when the system breaks. You deal with it later. You fix the breach first.
“Lock it down,” I say, my voice cutting through the corridor as I step past the first body without looking down. “Full perimeter. No one in or out.”
“It’s already in motion,” Dario replies, falling into step beside me.
“Not fast enough.”
Because someone slipped through the containment, because someone managed to get out before the team could close the final route, and because that changes the entire calculation.
“Where?” I ask.
“West wing transition,” Dario answers. “He broke through secondary containment before the team could close.”
I slow for half a step, the implications settling into place. That wasn't luck. The timing was too precise, the route too deliberate, and the escape too clean.
“He knew the layout,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Better than he should have.”
Silence follows, brief but sharp, because neither of us needs to say what that means. Someone on the inside gave him information, or someone on the inside is more involved than we've accounted for. Either way, we've just been given another piece of the puzzle.
I turn the corner hard, following the path in real time as my mind begins mapping every possible route, exit, blind spot, and fallback position.
I don't need to see the man to understand how he's moving.
If he knew the layout well enough to breach secondary containment, then he knew enough to anticipate where security would close in and where they wouldn't.
“He's not leaving the estate,” Dario says.
“He's not trying to.”
That stops him for half a second.
“Explain.”
I glance back toward the corridor we just left, toward the room where Olivia is still waiting and toward the trap that was supposed to give us answers.
“He didn't come here to escape,” I say. “He came here to confirm something.”
“Confirm what?”
My gaze returns to the route ahead, and the answer is already forming with a certainty I don't like.
“Her.”
The single word changes the weight of everything that came before it.
The breach wasn't simply about gaining access to Rico or creating another opportunity to finish what the first attack started.
The man needed to see Olivia, to verify that she was here, to establish that the information they had was accurate.
Dario exhales slowly as the same realization reaches him.
“Then we have a bigger problem.”
“Yes.”
Because if they now know exactly who she is, where she is, and what connection she has to me, then she is no longer merely leverage.
She has become a confirmed target, and that distinction changes everything.
Leverage can sometimes be protected, hidden, or traded.
A confirmed target is something else entirely.
She's permanent now.
And whoever is behind this has just been given every reason to come back for her.
We reach the west wing junction, the signs of the break already visible—disrupted formation, scuffed walls, a dropped weapon that shouldn’t be there.
Sloppy.
But not enough.
“Spread out,” I order. “He’s still inside.”
“Teams are already sweeping,” Dario says.
“Then tighten it.”
Because sweeping isn’t enough.
Because this isn’t random movement.
This is calculated.
“He’s looking for something,” I say.
“Or someone,” Dario adds.
Yes.
Exactly.
I turn, scanning the layout again, recalculating.
“If he’s confirming, he’s not running blind,” I continue. “He has a path. A target. A fallback.”
“And you think that’s her.”
“I know it is.”
Another silence.
Then—
“We need to move her,” Dario says.
“No.”
The word comes out immediately, final enough that Dario's expression changes before he even asks what I mean.
“Rico—”
“No,” I repeat. “We move her now, we confirm everything for him.”
“And if we don't?”
“He comes to us.”
“That’s a risk.”
“It’s the only way this works.” I keep my eyes on the corridor ahead, already running through the possibilities.
Chasing him gives him control because it puts us back into a reactionary position, and reacting means allowing him to dictate where the next move happens.
I won't give him that advantage. Whatever happens next has to happen on our terms, not his.
“You're assuming he'll take the bait,” Dario says.
“He will.”
“Why?”
“Because the pattern fits. The timing aligns, and everything about this operation tells me the same thing.” I turn toward him. “They didn't come here to test security. They came here for her.”
“And now they know where she is.”
“Yes.”
“Which means—”
“He finishes it.”
The words settle between us with a weight neither of us needs to explain.
If the man who escaped came here to confirm Olivia's presence, then he has exactly what he needed.
He knows she exists, he knows where she is, and he knows she's important enough to justify the risk.
There is no reason for him to disappear now.
He'll come back because that's what we need him to do.
Dario studies me for several seconds, weighing the strategy and recalculating the risks before finally giving a slow nod.
“Then we set the second trap.”
“Yes.”
The first move was never going to be the end. It was reconnaissance, a test of access and response, and now we know enough to turn the next attempt against them.
“We need her in position,” he says.
“I know.”
“And she's not going to like it.”
“No,” I agree. “She won't.”
Dario's gaze remains on me. “You're still going to ask her.”
“Yes.”
“Ask,” he repeats, emphasizing the word.
I don't answer immediately because he's right about what has changed.
Olivia made her choice when she agreed to become part of this, and if that choice means anything, then it has to include the right to refuse.
I may not like the consequences of that refusal, but I don't get to erase her decision simply because the stakes have become higher.
We turn back toward the main corridor, and I can feel the atmosphere of the house shifting around us.
The chaos has disappeared, replaced by something colder and more deliberate.
Security teams move quietly through the halls, communications remain open, and every person who needs to know has already begun preparing for what comes next.
“Keep all channels open,” I order. “No assumptions. No gaps.”
“Understood.”
“And, Dario.”
He looks at me.
“This one doesn't leave.”
The words aren't a suggestion. They're a directive, because we've already allowed one mistake, and I have no intention of allowing another.
“Not this time,” he says.
Good.
Because there won't be a third opportunity.
I step back into the main corridor, and my gaze finds her immediately.
Olivia is exactly where we left her, standing with that same controlled composure that has become almost unsettling to watch.
She hasn't broken under the pressure. She hasn't retreated into fear.
If anything, every threat seems to sharpen her awareness rather than diminish it.
She looks at me before I say anything.
She already knows.
Not the details, but enough to recognize that something has changed again.
“What happened?” she asks.
“One got away.”
Her expression tightens. “How?”
“Doesn't matter.”
“It does if we're doing this again.”
I hold her gaze because we both know the answer.
“We are.”
Something flickers across her face, but she doesn't look away.
“He confirmed you,” I tell her.
The words land cleanly between us. I don't soften them because she deserves the truth, especially now.
Her breathing changes slightly, not with panic but with the realization of what that confirmation means.
“That means—”
“They're not guessing anymore,” I finish.
Silence settles between us as she processes it. The uncertainty that existed before is gone. They know she is here. They know she matters. Whatever information they were working from has been verified.
“They're coming back,” she says.
“Yes.”
Not if.
When.
She takes a slow breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is steady.
“What’s the plan?”
I hold her gaze without looking away.
“We let him.”
The words settle heavily between us because this time the strategy is more than a trap. It's an invitation, carefully constructed to make our enemy believe he's returning on his own terms when, in reality, we're waiting for him.
And when he walks back into it, we end it.