"Take me backstage," Jason whispered against the shell of her ear, his voice completely swallowed by the heavy bass vibrating through the tiled wall. "That is the first step."Lana’s eyes flicked toward the closed restroom door, instantly piecing together his play. He wasn't heading for the front valet; he wanted the performers' back tunnel. She gave a sharp, subtle nod, reached into her tiny purse, and pulled out her signature black lace-and-leather half-mask, passing it into his palm beneath the cover of her body.Jason slipped the mask over the upper half of his face. It wouldn't fool the wolves already inside the room who knew his build, but it would completely blind the club's overhead facial-recognition cameras and obscure his features from any fresh spotters waiting outside in the dark.He draped a heavy, possessive arm around Lana’s bare waist, kicked the restroom door open, and swaggered back out into the neon-lit hallway, playing the part of a reckless, infatuated billionair

Despite how well the black tactical polo and cargo pants fit his frame, Jason’s skin was actively crawling. Knowing exactly what Marcus had been doing inside that bathroom stall just minutes ago made wearing the man's warm uniform feel like a biological hazard.He forced the disgust out of his mind and watched through the cracked door of the VIP suite as Marcus—draped in Jason’s designer jacket and the black lace half-mask—swaggered toward the rear fire exit with his hands shamelessly roaming over Lana’s bare waist.Jason had to hand it to her; Lana was a natural-born con artist. The way she leaned into Marcus’s neck, giggling breathlessly as she guided him out into the dark alley, was so seamless it was obvious she had faked that exact enthusiasm for countless men before.The heavy steel back door clicked shut behind them. The bait was officially in the water.Time to move.Jason pulled the security cap low over his brow, kept the black neck gaiter tugged high over his nose, and step

Inside the pressurized cabin of the blacked-out Escalade, the silence was suffocating.Sil sat with her legs crossed casually on the leather bench opposite Jason and Sofia, twirling her ceramic blade between her knuckles like a baton. Her eyes weren't watching her captives; they were locked onto the digital rear-view monitor built into the dashboard.A tiny, pulsing red blip on the center console’s radio-frequency scanner was clicking at steady three-second intervals."Tsk, tsk, darling," Sil sighed, a playful pout playing on her lips as her dark eyes flicked toward Jason. "I thought a Pike heir could afford better help. Your little shadow on the motorcycle is broadcasting an encrypted beacon off your burner phone. Did he honestly think I wouldn't sweep for localized RF spikes before hitting the highway?"Sofia shifted uncomfortably against the leather, pale, trembling, and hyperventilating. Jason kept his jaw locked, his eyes cold and unblinking behind Marcus’s cheap tactical gaiter.

"Where can I get a mobile signal out here?" Charlotte asked, pocketing her dead screen.Ezekiel’s wife wiped her oily hands on her tattered apron and pointed toward the jagged black silhouette of a ridge rising behind the valley. "We only catch a signal when we climb the limestone bluff on the north ridge. And it is a rough trek from this side in the dark.""Then let's get moving," Charlotte said without hesitation, gesturing for the old farmer to lead the way. "Your wife should stay here and get the children inside like I asked. You and I will make the climb."Ezekiel nodded, grabbing a rusted kerosene lantern before leading Charlotte out of the clearing and into the pitch-black brush.On a paved city street, eight hundred meters was nothing. Out here, in the freezing mud and tangled undergrowth of the valley floor, it was a nightmare. Within five minutes, the thick clay had sucked at Charlotte’s designer boots so fiercely that the thin heels nearly snapped. Cursing under her breath,

Seventy miles north on the rain-slicked expanse of Route 9, Xiao Jue—the Third Phantom—pushed his blacked-out interceptor bike past a hundred and ten miles an hour, the engine screaming through the empty highway corridor.To Sil, it looked like the legendary assassin had swallowed her bait hook, line, and sinker.She was only half right.The Third Phantom hadn't survived a decade at the apex of the underworld by being blind. The moment the two identical Escalades had erupted from opposite ends of that industrial body shop simultaneously, his instincts had screamed that a shell game was in play. The sudden split had briefly caught him off guard, forcing an instant tactical choice: follow the live GPS ping of Jason’s burner phone heading north, or chase the dark vehicle cutting south.Before banking north after the beacon, the Third Phantom had tapped his throat-mic twice, ordering a trailing Recon Ghost to break off and shadow the southern Escalade in complete radio silence.Within the