Page 167 of Menace in Vegas

Priority. Quiet.

Stryker Ward replies two seconds later.

On it.

You think he’s in trouble or just ghosting for peace?

If it were just that, I wouldn’t be texting you.

Something’s off. Need confirmation.

There’s a pause, then three dots appear.

Accessing data now. He’s got signal—barely. Burner-level low usage.

I’ll triangulate. Sit tight. Don’t do anything stupid.

I almost laugh.

If someone’s following us, watching Allie, and this ties back to Peyton or Daltyn, there won’t be time to “do something stupid.”

There will only be time to end it.

I rub a hand down my face, jaw tight.

This was supposed to be our honeymoon. A relaxing and fun escape from the world. Just her and me.

There shouldn’t be hooded shadows watching us.

No adrenaline spikes. No paranoia. No fucking threats lurking in paradise.

But that guy I saw wasn’t a tourist.

And my gut never lies.

Another message pings.

Got a match.

Daltyn’s in Key West.

My blood runs cold.

You sure?

Confirmed. Within two miles of your last ping. You want me to dig deeper?

No. I’ll handle it. Just send a general location.

I lock my phone and stare out at the horizon.

The waves are crashing harder now.

Daltyn’s here. So is Peyton.

Daltyn played it off in Vegas, but I know what I saw. The guy wasferalabout her. Ready to go nuclear on Landon without hesitation.

Which means if they’re both here, something is happening.

---