Chapter 41

41

Cody steered the car through the streets of Southport, leaving behind the quaint charm of the historic downtown. With each turn, Paige's stomach churned. She wound the strand of pink hair around her finger, tugging hard. The ten-minute drive felt like an eternity, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness.

As they approached the eastern edge of town, the landscape transformed. Towering high-rise condos loomed against the darkening sky, a jarring contrast to the smalltown feel they'd just left behind. Some gleamed with newness, while others showed clear signs of age and neglect.

The GPS chirped, signaling their arrival. Paige's eyes widened as she took in their destination—a crumbling, ten-story monstrosity of concrete and exposed rebar. Construction fencing encircled the entire property, the orange mesh a garish warning sign.

"Demolition," Cody suggested, his voice tight. "Tear the place down and start over."

The car slowed to a crawl. Her breath caught as they approached the entrance to the underground parking garage. The fencing ran across it, a seemingly impassable barrier. But as they inched closer, the metal gate began to slide open on rubber wheels, the screech of metal on metal setting her teeth on edge.

"Okay, that is seriously creepy."

"No kidding." Cody scanned their surroundings. He faked a shudder, clearly trying to keep her loose.

The car's headlights cut through the gloom of the underground parking structure, revealing a vast, empty expanse of cracked concrete. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow. The echoes of their engine reverberated off the walls, amplifying the eerie silence.

Cody eased the car into a spot near the stairwell, killing the engine. Paige's heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to prove herself, to show him she could handle whatever came next.

The burner phone's screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow in the darkness. "Fifth floor. Apartment 552," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.

They quickly formulated a plan. Cody would take point, with Paige covering their six. They'd clear each landing before proceeding, communicating with hand signals to maintain silence. She nodded, committing the details to memory, determined not to let Cody down.

Weapons drawn, they ascended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. Paige's senses were on high alert, every creak and groan of the old building setting her nerves on edge.

Reaching the fifth floor, they found themselves in a dank hallway. Condo doors lined each side, stretching all the way to the opening at the far end. Paige guessed it used to be floor-to-ceiling glass. Now it was a huge square opening. Trash and leaves cluttered the floor for several feet. Flickering fluorescent lights cast sickly shadows on peeling wallpaper.

Apartment 552's door stood slightly ajar. Paige's grip tightened on her weapon as Cody pushed it open, revealing ... nothing. The room was empty, save for a layer of dust and the lingering smell of mildew.

"Watch the door," Cody instructed, his voice tight as he moved to search the other rooms.

Moments later, he emerged, his face ashen. "I've got two dead bodies. It's the guys who were waiting by the vehicle. Close shots, straight to the head. Professional hit for sure."

"But no Jason?" She could barely get the words out her throat was so tight.

"No Jason."

Before Paige could process this information, the muffled sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Her breath caught in her throat as she pivoted towards the door, weapon raised. Beside her, Cody mirrored her stance, both of them poised on a knife's edge of tension.

The footsteps grew louder, more deliberate. A shadow fell across the threshold, and Paige's finger tightened imperceptibly on the trigger.

The barrel of a gun swung into the doorway, followed by a dark head. Time slowed as recognition dawned. The familiar silhouette, the stance she knew so well from years of training together.

Jason.

"Don't shoot," she ordered, both her friend and Cody.

A black backpack slid down Jason's shoulder, swinging from his forearm. He let it hit the floor. The air crackled with tension and unspoken questions.

Jason broke the silence first, his voice a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "What is going on?"

His gaze darted between Paige and Cody, taking in their defensive postures, the shock evident on their faces.

Paige lowered her weapon first, her body moving before her mind could catch up. In two quick strides, she closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around Jason in a fierce embrace.

The familiar scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils. He stiffened before relaxing into the hug, his own arms finally encircling her.

As they pulled apart, Paige really looked at him for the first time. Her heart clenched at what she saw. He looked exhausted, as if ten years had been drained out of him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and new lines etched his face. But he was here, alive, and that was what mattered. No more solo heroics. No more running. His teammates, and his family, would help him heal.

Weapon at his side now, Cody jerked his thumb towards the bedroom, his expression grim. "Your work?" he asked Jason.

Jason pulled out of her arms and frowned, clearly not understanding. He moved past them, heading for the bedroom. A muffled curse reached them. When he returned, his face was ashen. "Not me," he said, shaking his head. "I literally just got here."

Cody stared him full in the face. "Exactly. How is it you happen to show up now?"

Jason backed up a step, holstering his weapon. "I got this." Slowly, he reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out his phone, holding it out so they could see the screen. "Came about two hours ago. I was on my way?—"

"To the safe house," Paige finished for him.

He nodded and hit play on the screen. A video very similar to the one they'd seen. Only this time, she and Cody were the bound prisoners.

Cody squeezed the back of his neck. "We got the same deepfake, only they said they had you."

Jason pocketed his phone. "This is not optimal."

"No kidding." Paige eyed the doorway. "I don't guess you contacted the team."

Jason shook his head. "I'm thinking we both played this the same way. Not worth the risk."

So no backup on the way.

The three of them exchanged worried glances.

"We need a plan," Cody announced. "Fast."

Jason unholstered his Glock, checking the magazine. "You got any ideas?"

Cody examined his own weapon. "We've got ammo and flash bangs. You?"

Jason reached for his pack. "Plenty of rounds and enough C-4 to level this dump. We need to book. This isn't the best place to make a stand."

"Copy that." Cody hefted his go bag. "You thinking what I'm?—"

"Hello, team." A deep, modulated voice called out from the doorway.

Paige's heart leapt into her throat, her weapon swinging towards the new threat. Her jaw dropped as she recognized the figure in the doorway.

It was Bill Weathers, the old guy from the Keys. But gone was the affable, grandfatherly demeanor. Dressed in black tactical gear, the man who stood before them now radiated menace, his posture straight and intimidating. The crow's feet radiating out from his faded eyes no longer suggested friendliness and a propensity to smile. Now, the deep slashes emphasized cunning, and cruelty.

How had she misjudged him so badly?

He wasn't alone. Three hulking figures flanked him, their massive frames filling the hallway behind him. They wore tech clothing and Kevlar vests, their weapons trained unerringly on the three of them.

Cody stepped forward, raising his handgun in a slow, deliberate taunt. "I got this."

"Not before we take out at least one of your friends." Bill motioned to his sidekicks. "We're prepared to die for our cause. How about you?"