The silence in the wake of the alarm was more deafening than the siren had been. Isabella stood frozen behind a dumpster in the alley serving as the secondary rally point, the rough brick scraping her back through the thin cleaner’s uniform. The rain had softened to a mist that clung to her skin like a cold sweat. In her ear, the comms unit was a pit of static, then a gasp, then the voice of a stranger—cold, professional—and Xavier’s ragged breathing cutting off.“Your father would like a word.”The line went dead. Not the gentle click of a disconnected call, but the abrupt, hollow silence of a unit being crushed underfoot.A wave of nausea, hot and sharp, rose in her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing back against the brick as if she could merge with it. They had him. The pl
