Chapter 32
Rico
Movement creates vulnerability. It also creates opportunity. The difference is who controls it.
Right now, that difference is us.
I watch the route populate across the screen as Dario finalizes the logistics, the map of Las Vegas spreading across the monitor in layers of streets, access points, surveillance zones, and locations we've been tracking for the last several days.
Vehicles. Timing. Alternate routes. Every possible deviation accounted for, every weakness examined before we commit ourselves to the move.
The cartel has been watching our people for too long, testing our perimeter, probing our businesses, and trying to determine how much we know about the operation they've been building beneath the surface of this city.
They made the mistake of assuming we hadn't noticed.
They made an even bigger mistake when they started watching Olivia.
“She leaves the estate, we lose containment,” Dario says, his voice measured but edged with something sharper underneath.
“We expand it,” I reply.
Dario looks at me. “That's not how containment works.”
“It is if we redefine the perimeter.”
His gaze returns to the screen. For several seconds, neither of us speaks.
The cartel has spent weeks making us react to them, forcing us to follow their movements instead of making them respond to ours.
Every shipment we've intercepted, every shell company we've uncovered, every name we've pulled from their network has given us another piece of the operation, but pieces aren't enough.
We need the people moving those pieces. We need to know who's giving the orders, who's protecting the routes, and how deep their operation runs through Las Vegas.
“She becomes visible,” Dario says.
“She already is.”
“Not like this.”
“No,” I agree. “Not intentionally.”
That's the point.
Olivia isn't just walking into a hospital. She's becoming the bait that makes the cartel believe they finally have an opening.
“She’s driving this,” Dario says.
“Yes.”
“And you're letting her.”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a moment, and I know exactly what he's seeing.
The difference between the man I was before Olivia entered this mess and the man standing here now.
Once, I would have made the decision myself and expected everyone around me to follow it.
Now I'm willing to listen when someone else sees a weakness I missed, even when that someone is the woman I'm supposed to be protecting.
“That’s new,” he says.
“It’s necessary.”
Another silence settles between us.
“If this goes wrong—”
“It won't.”
Dario's eyes narrow. “You don't get to say that anymore.”
He's right.
Not after today.
Not after the cartel managed to get close enough to prove that our security wasn't as impenetrable as we thought. Not after we've watched them adapt every time we changed our approach. Certainty is a luxury we don't have anymore.
“That’s why we do it right,” I say. “We don't assume anything. We control what we can, and we make sure the variables we can't control work in our favor.”
Dario holds my gaze for another second before nodding. “Fine. But we don't improvise.”
“Agreed.”
Because improvisation is where mistakes happen.
And mistakes are exactly what the cartel is waiting for.
The door opens behind us.
Olivia steps inside.
Already composed. Already focused. Already moving like she belongs in this part of the operation.
There was a time when she would have walked into a room like this and looked at the weapons, the maps, and the men surrounding the table as evidence of a world she wanted nothing to do with.
Now she walks in and studies the screen before she studies us, her attention immediately narrowing on the route Dario has prepared.
“What’s the route?” she asks.
I gesture toward the screen. “Primary exit through the south gate. Vehicle swap at point two. Then we loop back through the outer perimeter before heading toward the hospital.”
Her eyes track the route instantly. She studies the map the same way I've watched her study a patient's chart, searching for the problem nobody else noticed.
“Too linear,” she says.
Dario's brow lifts slightly. “Explain.”
“If the cartel has someone watching the estate, they'll recognize this pattern.” She points toward the route. “They'll see the south gate, track the vehicle change, and anticipate the return. Even if they don't know exactly where we're going, they'll know we're trying to circle back.”
“They won't know the route,” Dario says.
“They don't need to,” she counters. “They just need to recognize the pattern.”
She's right.
I can see it now.
The predictability.
The delay.
The opportunity it gives the cartel to position themselves ahead of us instead of behind us.
“Then we break it,” I say.
“How?” Dario asks.
Olivia doesn't hesitate.
“We don't return.”
Silence settles across the room.
Dario looks at her. “That's not containment.”
“That’s control,” she replies.
I look at the map again, then back at her.
She's right.
If we return to the estate, we give the cartel exactly what they expect.
We disappear, they lose the trail. We follow the same route home, they know where to look.
But if Olivia appears somewhere public enough to be seen and controlled enough that we can protect her, we force them to make a decision.
They either follow her—
Or reveal that they were never watching her in the first place.
“She’s not wrong,” I say.
Dario looks at me. “You're serious.”
“Yes.”
Because this isn't about drawing the cartel into a random location. It's about forcing one of their surveillance teams to expose itself.
“Where do we go instead?” he asks.
I look at Olivia.
“Your call.”
Her gaze flicks to mine for a second, and something passes between us before her attention returns to the map.
“There’s a hospital ten minutes out,” she says. “Private. Smaller. Controlled access.”
Dario shakes his head. “That's too exposed.”
“That's why they'll believe it,” she replies. “If I disappear completely, they lose the trail. If I show up somewhere predictable, they have a reason to follow.”
“And you want them to follow.”
“Yes.”
The answer doesn't waver.
I study her face.
She knows exactly what she's volunteering for.
She also knows that this is bigger than the two of us.
The cartel has been moving through Las Vegas under the assumption that nobody has connected their routes, their businesses, and their people. They've underestimated us. Now we're going to make them prove how much of the city they actually control.
“It’s a controlled environment,” I say. “Just not ours.”
“That’s a problem,” Dario replies.
“No,” I say. “It's an advantage.”
His gaze shifts toward me.
“Because they'll think we're operating outside our territory,” I continue. “They'll assume we're vulnerable. They'll commit more people than they would if we stayed inside the estate.”
“And if they don't?”
“Then we learn something else.”
Dario studies the map.
“You're expanding the field.”
“Yes.”
“And increasing the variables.”
“Yes.”
“And you're okay with that.”
I look at Olivia.
“Yes.”
Because we're not waiting anymore.
We're making them move.
Dario exhales slowly before nodding. “Then we secure the hospital.”
“Already thought of that,” Olivia says.
Of course she did.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“Minimal staff. No unnecessary movement. One controlled room. And I need to be able to see the people coming in.”
Dario nods. “Done.”
“And I stay visible,” she adds.
His gaze sharpens immediately. “That's not necessary.”
“It is if we want them to commit.”
He looks at me.
I don't hesitate.
“She’s right.”
Because the cartel won't take the bait if they don't believe it's real.
Partial exposure won't be enough.
They need to see Olivia.
They need to believe she's accessible.
And when they move, we'll finally know who is watching her.
“Fine,” Dario says. “But you're not alone.”
“I won't be.”
Her gaze meets mine, and there is no fear in it now. Only understanding, the kind that comes when someone has accepted the danger without allowing it to dictate their choices.
“When do we move?” she asks.
“Thirty minutes.”
She gives a single nod without hesitation or second-guessing, already shifting into the mindset required for what comes next. She turns toward the door, but stops before reaching it and looks back at me.
“This doesn't go wrong.”
Her voice is quiet, but there is no uncertainty behind the words. It isn't hope she's offering me. It's a promise, and something about the certainty in her expression makes me believe she intends to keep it.
I hold her gaze. “It doesn't.”
She studies me for another second, as though deciding whether she believes the answer, before finally turning away. The door closes behind her, leaving Dario and me alone with the map, the screens, and the plan we've just committed ourselves to.
He looks at me. “You believe that?”
I turn my attention back to the map. “No.”
His expression tightens slightly.
“I believe we're prepared,” I correct. “There's a difference.”
He considers that before giving a single nod and returning his attention to the screen. I let myself take one slow breath, allowing the tension in my chest to settle without mistaking that release for relief.
In thirty minutes, Olivia will walk into a hospital knowing the cartel may be watching her.
They'll see a woman who appears exposed, a weakness they believe we've failed to protect, and an opportunity they won't be able to resist. They'll believe we've made a mistake.
They'll believe we've given them exactly what they needed.
And when they take the opening we've created for them, they'll discover the truth too late.
We aren't waiting for them anymore.
We're waiting for them to walk into our trap.
The room is quiet when I find Olivia later.
The operation is ready. Vehicles are positioned. Security has been notified. The hospital has been prepared. Every person involved knows their role, and every contingency has been discussed twice.
There is nothing left to plan.