Page 65 of Forbidden Access

Their presence should have been reassuring, but it only underscored the gravity of the situation. Every time he heard the faint crackle of their radios or the rustle of tactical gear, he felt the tension rise.

He’d caught only brief glimpses of Thorn throughout the day, and each time, it left him feeling more unsettled.

She was focused, professional, her demeanor cool and composed as she coordinated with her team. Annoyingly, they hadn’t had a single moment together since they’d arrived.

The sense of impending danger hung over him like a storm cloud, and as night fell, it only grew heavier. Everybody knew that if Alek was going to make a final, last-ditch attempt to get to him, it would be tonight.

Room service had come and gone, but he had no appetite. Even the FBI’s visit to brief him on the logistics of their plan—his transfer into custody post-announcement to help them dismantle Alek's network—did little to ease his anxiety.

It was a necessary evil, the price for his freedom and a chance at a future with Thorn, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Time ticked on. He was still working in the early hours, his mind too restless to sleep, when a loud clanging made him jump.

The fire alarm.

Seconds later, Pat barged into his room, face grim.

“It’s him,” Damian hissed, rising to his feet. “It has to be.”

Pat didn’t disagree.

Damian was fully dressed in track pants and a long-sleeved shirt, ready for a quick getaway. He’d anticipated this moment, not that it helped the spiraling tension or the ringing in his ears.

“Anna, sit rep,” Pat barked, touching his earpiece, his voice low and clipped. “Copy that.” He looked up at Damian. “It’s not a drill. There’s smoke in the downstairs corridors. We need to evacuate.”

Shit.

“Would they really set the place on fire just to get to me?” Damian asked, his voice tinged with disbelief, but he knew the answer. Alek wouldn’t hesitate to put countless lives at risk if it meant he could prevent this upgrade from happening.

“They might. Who knows what these fuckers are thinking?” Pat held out an arm, ushering him out of the bedroom and into the adjoining room that had been converted into a tactical command post.

His gaze immediately fell on Thorn. She looked ready for action—hair tied up, wearing tight jeans and a navy T-shirt that showed off her long, lean arms. A holster around her waist carried her Glock, and he could see the earpiece nestled in her ear, connected to the tactical channel.

She flashed him a quick smile before turning back to her team. “My guess is they’re going to flush everyone out and take Damian down during the chaos,” Hawk was saying, checking the slide on his sidearm.

Damian tensed. Nobody had briefed him on the specifics of the escape plan, so he stood there, helpless, as the team mobilized around him.

“Everyone stick to the plan,” Pat barked.

Nods all around.

Wait? There was a plan?

“Put this on.” Hawk handed him a Kevlar vest like the ones the team was wearing, along with a red baseball cap bearing a white dolphin logo.

Damian pulled it on, fumbling slightly. “What are we doing? Why the cap?” He glanced at the cap skeptically, wondering how it was supposed to help. If this was a disguise, it was pretty damn weak.

“Just follow our lead,” Hawk said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do it,” Thorn breathed as she brushed past him.

He knew better than to argue. These guys were pros—he could only hope they knew what they were doing.

Pat cracked open the door, revealing a corridor full of panicked guests rushing toward the stairwell, their footsteps echoing off the walls.

“Keep an eye out for anyone posing as emergency personnel,” Hawk warned. “The shooter will probably be dressed as a firefighter or hotel security.”

“Got it,” Pat replied, his voice booming over the startled murmurs from the guests. “Let’s move.”

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