Page 32 of Lost Hope

“No.” Maya’s laugh was hollow. “But I’d rather have him hate me than have him dead.”

Ronan caught Christian watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. For once, they were both thinking the same thing: sometimes protecting family meant making the hard calls.

Or so he imagined.

16

BREADCRUMBS

Ten p.m.in Marina Del Rey. Maya crouched in the shadows between two luxury SUVs, the familiar tang of salty air mixing with exhaust fumes from the nearby freeway. Through tactical binoculars, she watched her childhood home—the condo in the fifteen-story glass and steel tower where she’d spent countless nights listening to her father’s tread in the hall, the quiet clink of his service weapon being stored, the rustle of case files. Now the building’s bright facade loomed against the Los Angeles skyline, its usual nighttime symphony of distant traffic and marina bells replaced by an unnatural silence that set her teeth on edge.

She shouldn’t be here. The Knight Tactical team had fought hard against bringing her, arguing that her emotional connection to the target would compromise the operation. But Maya had dug in her heels, the words burning in her throat: “He’s my father. I’m coming.” She’d stared them down, federal agent to private operators, until Jack had finally nodded.

Now, six hours after that tense standoff, she was helping a private military team kidnap her father. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“Infrared scan complete,” Star’s voice purred through their earpieces. “Twelfth floor’s reading cold. No heat signatures.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. “That’s impossible. His phone?—”

“Cell signal’s still active in the unit,” Star confirmed, “but thermal imaging shows no one’s home. Hasn’t been for hours, based on residual readings.”

“He left his phone deliberately,” Ronan said beside her, voice tight. “It’s a diversion.”

“Confirmed empty,” Jack’s voice cut in. “Building’s security feeds show Captain Chen leaving three hours ago with a briefcase. No return entry.”

Maya’s hand clenched around her binoculars. Her father never went anywhere without his phone. Never broke routine without reason. He was meticulous, calculated. He wouldn’t just abandon his phone unless— “He knew we were coming.”

“Someone warned him,” Axel whispered, fingers tracing his earpiece. “The encryption on these comms is military-grade, but if someone knew we were mobilizing?—”

“Focus,” Christian’s voice cut through the night. “Star, run thermal sweeps on all surrounding buildings. Austin, extend perimeter scan to two blocks. Someone tipped him off, which means?—”

“We’re being watched,” Maya finished, her gaze sweeping the rooflines with new urgency. Her father wasn’t just missing. He was three steps ahead of them.

And they’d just walked into his territory blind.

“This gear is insane,” Axel whispered beside her, fingers tracing his earpiece. “The encryption alone must be?—”

“Focus, puppies.” Christian’s voice cut through the night. “We know it’s empty, but we still do this by the book. Three-man team clearing the apartment. You three maintain perimeter watch. Look for any surveillance, any sign of who tipped him off.”

Maya bit back a protest. She understood the logic, but watching others search her father’s home felt wrong.

Ronan shifted on her other side, radiating tension. She recognized that stillness—the forced inaction of a trained operator regulated to the sidelines. His gaze swept the roofline, the surrounding buildings, the street access points. “You’re right, Maya. Someone’s watching. Has to be.”

“Moving to entry point,” Jack murmured through comms. “Austin, maintain exit route alpha. Star, keep scanning for any new heat signatures in the surrounding buildings.”

“Copy that,” came the calm responses.

Christian’s team melted into the shadows. Through her binoculars, Maya studied the familiar twelfth-floor windows. The darkness felt deliberate now, a message rather than an absence.

“Apartment secured,” Christian’s voice was clipped. “But you need to see this. Bring them up.”

“Moving to your position,” Ronan replied, already in motion. “Watch our six.”

Maya and Axel fell in behind him as they crossed the street, staying tight to the shadows. The service entrance yielded to Knight Tactical’s electronic skeleton key, and they took the stairs two at a time to the twelfth floor.

Christian met them at the apartment door, his team maintaining a defensive perimeter in the hallway. His expression was grim. “It’s not just empty. It’s staged.”

Maya stepped into her father’s apartment, the familiar scents of coffee and leather hitting her like a physical blow. The space felt wrong—too still, too quiet. Around her, Knight Tactical’s team moved with practiced efficiency, but as she took in the scene, her detective’s training kicked in.

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