Page 94 of Duty Compromised
I was tucked away in what had probably been a janitor’s closet once upon a time. Close enough to move fast when needed, but not within sight line. The space reeked of industrial cleaner and decay, and something skittered in the walls behind me. Probably rats. At this point, rats were the least of our problems.
Ben’s voice came through my earpiece. “Southwest corner secure.”
Fifteen minutes on the dot. Ben was nothing if not precise.
“Northeast secure,” Logan added a beat later. “No movement.”
I waited for Donovan to check in. Five seconds. Ten. Nothing.
I was about to key my mic and ask for his status when the main door scraped open. The sound echoed through the warehouse like fingernails on steel. My hand moved to my weapon as Darcy Giglio walked in, flanked by two men built like they bench-pressed small cars for fun.
Between them, they were escorting Charlotte.
Oh holy fuck.
My heart slammed against my ribs hard enough to crack them. Even from my position, I could see the bruising on her face. Purple bloomed along her left cheekbone, and her lower lip was split. But it was her eyes that gutted me—wide and terrified, darting around the warehouse like a trapped animal looking for escape routes that didn’t exist.
“Gentlemen,” Darcy announced, her voice carrying that same pleasant tone she’d used when discussing weekend plans in the Vertex break room. “I’m afraid your buy is a setup.”
The sellers went rigid. Hands moved toward weapons with the speed of people who’d survived this long by shooting first and asking questions never.
“How do you know this?” The lead seller’s accent thickened with anger.
Ethan played his part perfectly, confusion and concern mixing on his face. “What’s happening here? We had a deal?—”
“Oh, we still have a deal,” Darcy said, pushing Charlotte forward. Charlotte stumbled, catching herself just before she fell. “But Mr. Volkov here isn’t who he claims to be. As soon as I found Charlotte nearby, I knew this sale wasn’t legitimate.”
She grabbed Charlotte’s chin. When Charlotte tried to jerk away, one of Darcy’s goons grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place.
“This is Dr. Charlotte Gifford,” Darcy continued. “The genius behind the Cascade Protocol. And she’s been working with the cops.”
“Should we move in?” George’s voice crackled through the comms. He could hear what was going on.
“Negative,” I breathed into my mic. “Not yet.”
If they moved in now, both Charlotte and Ethan would be dead before the first agent cleared the door. These weren’t street thugs. They were professionals who’d shoot their way out and worry about the body count later.
“Ben, get to Donovan.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Now.”
If Charlotte was here, something had gone very wrong at Donovan’s position. I feared the worst but couldn’t let my mind go there. Not if I wanted to remain functional.
“Ty Hughes must be here somewhere,” Darcy said, scanning the warehouse with calculating eyes. “Charlotte’s protector. Her boyfriend.” She raised her voice, calling out to the shadows. “I know you’re watching, Ty. Ready to play the big hero.”
I didn’t do anything to give away my position. She was guessing.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Darcy continued, pressing the muzzle of her Glock against Charlotte’s temple. Charlotte’s whole body went rigid, a small sound escaping her throat. “You’re going to come out, Ty. Right now. I won’t kill her—that would be wasteful. But kneecaps? Those are surprisingly optional for someone who spends most of their time sitting at a computer.”
The Glock moved down, aimed at Charlotte’s left knee.
“Three seconds,” Darcy said pleasantly. “Two?—”
I stepped out of the closet, hands visible but ready. “I’m here.”
Every gun in the room swiveled toward me. I kept my eyes on Charlotte, trying to project calm I didn’t feel. Trying to tell her without words that this would be okay, that I’d get her out of this. Even though I had no fucking idea how.
“Ah, there he is. Hey, Ty,” Darcy said, like we were old friends meeting for coffee. “So nice of you to join us. Disarm him.”
One of her goons moved forward, professionally patting me down. He took my Glock, the backup piece from my ankle, the knife from my boot. When he found my earpiece, he yanked it out and crushed it under his boot.
