Page 85 of The Thief
"Then we spring the trap and end this." Henry's voice is steel. "I'm done playing defense. It's time to bring this war to him."
I check my weapons and make sure I've got everything I need. The drive to Stephen's house feels like it takes forever, even though I'm breaking every speed limit in Dublin.
My phone stays silent. No calls from Stephen, no updates from Maverick. Either everything's fine or everything's gone to hell and there's no one left to call.
I try Stephen's number again. Straight to voicemail.
Jessica's number. Same thing.
The silence is worse than bad news. At least with bad news, you know what you're dealing with.
Dublin's streets blur past as I push the BMW harder than it's meant to go. Every red light I run, every corner I take too fast, brings me closer to answers I'm not sure I want to hear.
What if Trace got there first? What if the attack on Henry's house was exactly the distraction it appeared to be? What if while we were congratulating ourselves on our easy victory, he was torturing the woman I?—
I can't think like that. Won't think like that. Alastríona's fine. She has to be fine.
My phone rings. Maverick's name on the screen.
"Talk to me," I answer.
"The house is secure. No movement, no threats. Everything's quiet."
Relief floods through me like a physical thing. "Alastríona?"
"Safe. Jessica's got her in the living room, teaching her to knit or some shit. They're both fine."
"Thank fuck."
"What happened at Henry's after we left?"
I quickly give him a debrief on what Marcus said before the fucker's heart gave out. "I'm five minutes out."
"Copy that. We'll be ready."
I disconnect, finally allowing myself to breathe properly for the first time since the attack started. She's safe. Whatever game Trace is playing, he hasn't gotten to her yet.
But that doesn't mean he won't try again. Doesn't mean this is over.
Stephen's house comes into view, warm light spilling from the windows. Normal, peaceful, like the kind of place where families gather for Sunday dinner instead of planning wars.
I park behind Maverick's car, noticing the extra security positioned around the property. Professional, well-armed men who know how to kill and when to kill. Good. If Trace does try something, he'll find more resistance than he bargained for.
The front door opens before I can knock. Maverick, looking grim but unharmed.
"About time," he says.
"House secure?"
"Tighter than a drum. Stephen's got men on every approach, motion sensors on the perimeter. Nothing's getting through."
"Good. Where is she?"
"Living room. With Jessica."
I push past him. I need to see her with my own eyes. Need to confirm that she's real, whole, unharmed.
She's sitting on Jessica's sofa, laughing at something the other woman said. The sound hits me like a physical blow, warm, genuine, alive. She's wearing the same clothes from this morning, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, looking younger than her eighteen years.
