Chapter 8 · Don't Go to the Dock

The screen showed Lisa's face for three seconds before Marcus yanked the tablet away.

Charlotte's gun was already up. "Give it back."

"Not until you listen." He kept the tablet against his chest, one hand raised. The other still held his Glock, but it was pointed at the floor. "That feed's live. Right now. You want to see her or you want to shoot me?"

Her finger was on the trigger. The car smelled like gunpowder and old coffee and something metallic she couldn't name. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She could drop him. Take the tablet. But if the feed cut when his heart stopped—

"Talk," she said.

"The clinic's fifteen minutes south. Same one they used for the Leipzig job, remember? Off-books surgery, no cameras, cash only." His voice was flat. Too flat. Like he was reading from a script he'd memorized six loops ago. "Lisa's in room four. Sedated. They're prepping her for transport."

"Who's they."

"Broker crew. Not ours. They grabbed her two years ago when you went dark. Kept her as insurance in case you ever came back."

Charlotte's aim didn't waver. "You knew."

"I found out loop nineteen." Marcus's jaw tightened.