Page 29 of Fang

Her eyes dart to the door, then back to me. “They moved him,” she admits. “Three hours ago.”

The information hits me like a system crash, momentarily freezing all processes. “Three hours?” I manage to ask, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Where?”

Nurse Chen glances at the door again, her entire body radiating nervous energy. “I’m not supposed to know, but I overheard them talking. They mentioned Mexico City.”

Mexico City. Cartel headquarters. Home to the most heavily fortified locations in their entire network. My carefully constructed extraction plan shatters.

“Show me his transfer records,” I demand, my mind already recalibrating, searching for alternatives.

She hesitates, then nods sharply. There’s a small laptop attached to a table near the empty bed. Her login gives her access to patient records, her fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced efficiency.

“Here,” she says, turning the screen slightly so I can see.

The transfer form is sparse, lacking the detailed documentation that should accompany a patient with Rory’s complex needs. Destination: Private Facility, Mexico City. Authorizing Physician: Dr. J. Vasquez.

Not a doctor. Juan Vasquez. The missing and possibly dead cartel leader whose organization I’m betraying by working with the MC.

“They brought specialized equipment.” Nurse Chen’s gaze darts to the door. “And a medical team. It wasn’t a rushed job. They were prepared.”

A cold realization dawns on me. “They know. They know I’ve defected.”

Nurse Chen doesn’t confirm or deny, but the fear in her eyes speaks volumes. “You need to leave,” she urges, closing the patient record. “Now.”

“Did he say anything?” I ask, desperation overriding caution. “Before they took him?”

Her expression softens momentarily. “He asked for you. Said to tell you he’d be fine, that you shouldn’t worry.” She swallows hard. “He’s so brave.”

The simple statement pierces me like a knife between ribs—precise and devastating. I’ve failed him. All these years of servitude to the cartel, all the compromises and crimes committed in his name, and I’ve still failed to protect him.

“Thank you,” I say to Nurse Chen, the words inadequate for the risk she’s taking. “If they contact you about him—”

“They won’t,” she says, heading for the door. “Now go. Please.”

I follow her, already calculating my next move. The extraction plan is obsolete, but perhaps Scalpel still has value—medical knowledge that could help me plan a new operation in Mexico City. Fang’s hacking skills could provide intelligenceon the facility where they’re keeping Rory. It’s not over. Just recalibrated.

As I step into the hallway, movement at the far end catches my eye. A man in orderly scrubs stands with his back to me, but his broad shoulders are unmistakable. It’s Emilio, one of Vasquez’s personal security details. He turns slightly, reaching for something at the nurses’ station. I duck my head immediately, using a passing group of staff as cover.

My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system. I resist the urge to run, forcing myself to walk at a normal pace toward the nearest exit. Each step feels like an eternity. Each passing face, a potential threat.

I push through the exit door into the humid night air, immediately veering away toward the ambulance bay. The vehicle waits exactly where planned, its engine idling softly. I approach from the side, staying in the shadows until I’m certain no one has followed me.

I rap my knuckles three times, the signal for Scalpel to open the rear doors. He does. I slip in.

“Text Fang. Tell him we need to go. Now!”

Scalpel types a quick message and hits send.“No brother?”

“He’s gone.”

Scalpel’s phone pings.“He’ll grab his bike and meet us down the road.”

I climb into the front and take the passenger seat while Scalpel pulls out of the bay. A few minutes later, we’re parked behind a dilapidated gas station. Fang rolls up as I get out of the ambulance. The moment his eyes reach mine, his expression shifts from expectation to concern.

“They moved him,” I say. “Three hours ago. To Mexico City.”

Scalpel joins us. “They took him to cartel headquarters?”

I nod once, my fingers curling into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. “They know I’ve defected.”

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