l—Ethan’s POV
Lincoln wasn’t in my office when we arrived.
He was already waiting in the surveillance room beneath the estate, his eyes were glued to a row of screens.
Half the room buzzed with encrypted lines, live feeds, and heat maps triangulating movement. This wasn’t just a war room anymore.
It was our last line.
“Tell me you’ve got something,” I said, already pulling off my coat, and placing it on the leather chair.
Lincoln didn’t look up. “Not something. Everything.”
He tapped a few keys, and one of the screens enlarged—a paused clip from a grainy dock camera. A black SUV, license plates covered. But even in the pixelated mess, the figure stepping out was unmistakable.
I knew he was the one.
Maurice.
There was someone behind him, a young woman in oversized sunglasses and a hat to match. Slender figure, poised. Dressed like a damn socialite even while vanishing underground.
No one could mistake her figure.
Ivory.
I clenched my jaw so hard that it sent a pulse of pain to my t
