Chapter 27 · Kyle's Eighteenth Trap

"Mark, she's lying to you." Emma's hand locked around my wrist before I got the phone to my ear.

Lyla's scream tore through the speaker anyway. "Mark—the whole structure—"

Metal shrieked in the background. Then nothing.

"Let go," I said.

Emma's fingers dug in harder. "That's what he wants. You leave now, you lose everything we found."

"I lose Lyla."

"You lose the proof." She stepped between me and the door. Close enough I could feel the heat coming off her, see the pulse hammering in her throat. "Kyle's playing you. He always plays you."

I looked at the evidence spread across the table. Six months of kills, mapped and dated. The call logs. The reset pattern. Everything we needed to prove it.

"Move," I said.

"No."

I grabbed her shoulders and shifted her aside. Not rough. Not gentle either.

She caught my jacket. "Mark, listen—"

"I am listening." I pulled free. "Lyla's at the Fourth Street garage. It's coming down right now. So either help or get out of the way."

Emma's jaw tightened. For three seconds she just stared at me, and I watched something crack behind her eyes. Fear, maybe. Or calculation.

"Fine," she said.