Daryl had barely stepped out of the senator’s office when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, expecting another call from Ford or maybe even a message from Kyle checking in. But when he saw the sender, his breath caught.
Celine Rodriguez.
A message. The first sign of life from her since she disappeared.
But something was off. The text wasn’t written in plain language. It was encrypted.
Daryl frowned, quickly copying the message into his decryption app—one of the few tools he kept from his cybercrime unit days. The process took a few seconds, but when the real message appeared on his screen, his pulse quickened.
> Daryl, I don’t have much time. I can’t trust anyone—not even the police.
The Blackwoods are everywhere.
I have proof that could take them down.
Meet me tonight at Midni
