MasukThird Person's POVVictor Ruiz sat in a cramped apartment three miles from the chemical plant where he had lost everything. The place belonged to a cousin who asked no questions and accepted cash payment for a temporary sanctuary. One room. A mattress on the floor. A bathroom with a sink that barely worked. The kind of place where men who were running from something came to hide until they figured out their next move.He had been watching the news on his phone for the past six hours. Every major outlet in Mexico City was covering the story. American woman rescued from Sinaloa kidnapping. Baby delivered safely after dramatic raid. Police searching for Victor Ruiz, wanted for kidnapping, assault, and a dozen other charges that would put him in prison for the rest of his life if they caught him.The bitch was alive. Avery Maddox had survived when she should have died. Had delivered her baby when both of them should have bled out in that contaminated building. Had been rescued by federal
Third Person's POVThe private jet touched down at Benito Juárez International Airport seven hours after Eve's phone call. Jackson had not slept during the flight. Had not eaten. Had barely moved from his seat except to pace the narrow aisle when sitting became unbearable. Liam had stayed beside him the entire time, holding his hand, offering water he would not drink, speaking words of comfort that could not possibly comfort.Now they stood in the Mexico City airport waiting for their luggage, exhaustion and fear making everything feel surreal. The air smelled different here. Warmer. Heavier. Foreign in a way that reminded them they were far from home in a country where they had no power and no protection beyond what the police were willing to provide."Mr. Maddox. Mr. Sinclair." A woman appeared beside them, professional and composed, wearing dark clothes that marked her as either security or law enforcement. "I am Officer Maria Gonzalez. Commissioner Martinez sent me to escort you t
Third Person's POVEve Dove stood in the operations center staring at the wall of screens displaying traffic camera footage, satellite imagery, and thermal scans of every building within a ten mile radius of where the white van had last been spotted. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. Her third cup of coffee had gone cold an hour ago. None of it mattered. Somewhere in the sprawl of Mexico City, a pregnant woman was going into labor in the hands of people who had no medical training and no incentive to keep her alive once she stopped being useful."Anything?" Commissioner Martinez asked, appearing beside her with fresh coffee that Eve accepted without looking away from the screens."The van disappeared into an industrial zone east of the city. Twelve warehouses. Six abandoned factories. A neighborhood with minimal camera coverage and a population that does not talk to police." Eve pointed to the map where red circles marked potential locations. "We have teams checking each building bu
Third Person's POVThe call came at four in the morning when the world was still dark and quiet. Liam's phone vibrated on the nightstand, pulling him from sleep that had not been restful to begin with. He reached for it blindly, his other arm still wrapped around Jackson who was finally sleeping after hours of staring at the ceiling."Mackenzie," Liam answered, his voice rough with exhaustion."We found the location. The warehouse where Ruiz is holding Avery." Mackenzie sounded wired, running on adrenaline and coffee. "Mexican Federal Police are moving in now. Tactical team. Full operation. We should have her within the hour."Liam sat up carefully, trying not to wake Jackson. "Are you sure it is the right place?""Eve tracked financial transactions. Kingsley identified movement patterns. Kane confirmed a visual on Ruiz entering the building yesterday evening. It is the right place." Mackenzie paused. "But Liam, you need to prepare Jackson. We do not know what condition Avery will be
Third Person's POVDanny Finn woke at five thirty in the morning, the same as he had every morning for nine years. Prison routine had carved itself into his nervous system with the precision of scar tissue. Even now, on the day of his release, his body responded to rhythms that no longer applied to his life.He sat up on the thin mattress and looked around the cell that had been his entire world. Eight feet by ten feet of concrete and steel. A toilet bolted to the floor. A sink that barely produced water pressure. A mirror made of polished metal that reflected distorted versions of whatever stood in front of it. He had learned to see himself in that mirror. Had watched himself age from thirty-five to forty-four in a space designed to contain rather than rehabilitate.The guard appeared at his cell door at six fifteen. "Finn. Processing. Let's move."Danny stood and walked out of the cell for the last time. He did not look back. Looking back was for people who had something worth remem
Third Person's POVThe parking garage on level seven smelled like concrete dust and engine exhaust that never quite dissipated. Fluorescent lights flickered at intervals, casting shadows that moved without reason. Jackson Maddox stepped out of the elevator into a space that felt less like architecture and more like a stage someone had dressed for a specific purpose.Morgana Prescott stood beside a black Mercedes sedan, hands visible, posture relaxed in the way that suggested she had nothing to fear from this meeting. She wore a dark suit that probably cost more than most people earned in a month, her blonde hair pulled back severely enough to make her face look carved rather than arranged. When she looked at Jackson, her eyes held the particular quality of someone who had stopped pretending to feel things they did not."You came alone," she said. Not a question."As requested." Jackson stayed near the elevator, calculating distances, exits, the weight of the transmitter button pressin







