Page 97 of Silence and Surrender

The wine tasted of history and hope and home. Of everything we’d gained and everything we still had to protect. Of the men we’d been and the men we’d become.

Everything we fought for. Everything we had to lose.

Everything that made the fight worth winning.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Isabella

The study in Cooper’s villa had become our war room. Maps and documents covered every surface, surveillance photos plastered the walls. Two months of careful intelligence gathering, of pulling threads, of building our case to support Interpol’s investigation.

“How did you put all this together so quickly?” I asked, still amazed at the network of safe houses, medical professionals, and security personnel Cooper had mobilized.

Cooper’s smile was grim. “When I went legitimate, I didn’t burn all my bridges. Just the really illegal ones. The people helping us now? Former clients, mostly. Collectors who owed me favors, security specialists who appreciated my discretion, doctors who treated my injuries without asking questions. I built relationships, not just contacts.”

“And Steele?”

“His network is even better than mine. Between his hotel businesses, clubs and art galleries, he has people in every major European city. Some legitimate now, just aligned with our particular interests.”

I studied another shipping manifest, one hand absently resting on my small but visible bump. Over three months pregnant now, and the changes to my body only made me more determined to end this. My training with Stryker had continued, adapted for my condition, but I refused to stop completely.

“The Rotterdam route is still active,” I said, tapping the paper. “Three shipments in the last month alone. All documented.”

“We’ve identified four key players at the bank,” Cooper added from his position by the maps. “Board members who sign off on the paperwork. All with connections to known trafficking networks.”

“These extraction points,” Stryker said, marking locations on the map. His finger lingered on certain routes. “I chose them carefully. They’re the same shadows, the same paths I found when I was hunting for Madelina. These bastards haven’t changed their methods in over five years.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. My hand tightened on the manifest as Colton’s expression darkened at the mention of Stryker’s sister. Even now, years later, that loss drove Stryker, and I knew his part in this was for the memory of his sister.

“I laid out emergency evacuation routes here, here, and here,” Stryker continued, his voice professional again despite the personal weight behind his words. “Multiple exit strategies for each target location.”

I felt Colton move behind me, his hand joining mine over our child. The warmth of his touch steadied me as I said, “The evidence is solid. We need to make sure Interpol has everything they need to make this airtight.”

“Yes,” Colton agreed. “They have too many officials bought. Too many contingency plans in place. We can’t risk losing a single piece of evidence if we want the entire network to fall.”

“Interpol handles the legal takedown,” I said, my voice hardening with conviction. “But we focus on what matters most.”

“The girls first,” Colton insisted, his voice carrying that protective edge I’d grown to love. “We get them out before the official raids begin.”

Stryker spoke next. “I have teams in position at three holding facilities. Ready to coordinate with Interpol when the time comes.”

“And the bank?” Cooper asked.

“Gets exposed completely,” I said firmly. “Every piece of evidence delivered to Interpol for a thorough investigation.”

“The board meets in London next week,” Stryker said, laying out surveillance photos. “Annual shareholders’ meeting. Every key player will be there.”

“Including Rodger.” Colton’s voice carried old rage. “He’s scheduled to present the art acquisition reports.”

I leaned into Colton’s solid warmth as Cooper laid out his contacts’ preparations. “My people are ready in Rotterdam, Marseilles, and Hamburg. Safe houses set up. Support services standing by for when Interpol moves in.”

There was something else they needed to know. Something I’d been holding back.

“About Sari,” I said, watching Colton’s expression. “Your assistant…she’s not who you think she is.”

Colton’s hands stilled on my shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been undercover for years,” I explained quietly. “Placed specifically to monitor money laundering at the bank. Her documentation was perfect, it had to be. She’s the one who first noticed the irregularities in Rodger’s compliance reports. The one who started building the case before my father died.”

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