Page 108 of Cobra
Logan flips it open.
Landon continues. “Small deposits, spread across multiple accounts. Shells. Clean enough to pass surface checks, but when you stack them, they create a pattern.”
“How small?” Carter asks.
“Small enough to look like nothing,” Landon says. “Big enough to pay for bodies.”
Silence settles for half a second.
Blaze leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So we’re dealing with organized assholes instead of random ones. That’s comforting.”
“Not random,” Dom corrects. “Structured.”
Logan’s eyes lift. “Meaning?”
Dom turns the laptop so everyone can see. “Multiple reports have come in over the past few weeks.” My focus sharpens. “Missing girls,” he says. The words land heavier than anything else so far. “Not one,” Dom continues. “Not isolated. Different towns but still close. Different backgrounds. No obvious connection on the surface.”
Blaze’s jaw tightens. “You’re saying this is bigger.”
“I’m saying it’s a system,” Dom answers.
Landon nods. “Payments match that. Repeated. Predictable. This isn’t a one-off grab. It’s ongoing.”
Someone at the table mutters, “Jesus.”
Cain leans forward. “Details.”
Dom scrolls. “Different neighborhoods,” he says. “Some close to here. Some farther out. Different jobs. Different routines. But the way they’re taken? Same every time.”
My hands stay loose at my sides. Still. Controlled.
“Routine tracked,” Dom continues. “Timing precise. They wait for gaps. For moments where targets are isolated but not expecting it. Extraction is fast. Clean. No witnesses if they can help it.”
Shadow’s voice cuts through. “And when they can’t?”
Dom’s eyes flick up. “They adapt.”
The alley flashes in my head. Her body hitting pavement. The knife at her throat. My jaw tightens. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for me.
Blaze exhales slowly. “This isn’t random. This is a pipeline.”
The room goes quiet. Not shocked. Not surprised. Recognizing.
Logan leans back slightly, eyes moving around the table. “Say it.”
“No,” Blaze says, shaking his head once. “Fuck that. I don’t want to be right.”
“You already are,” Dom says.
No one argues. Because they see it too. I don’t speak. I don’t need to. Inside, everything aligns. Olivia’s folder. Her name. Her salon. Her family. Her routine. The timing of the van outside Ambrosia. The timing at the club. The alley. They weren’t guessing. They weren’t hoping. She wasn’t an opportunity. She was selected. That locks something deeper into place. This isn’t about reacting anymore. This isn’t about cleaning up one bad situation or protecting one woman from one group of men. This is a system.
And that system is targeting what’s mine.
Logan’s voice cuts back in. “We don’t move blind.”
“They sure as fuck aren’t.” The words leave me before I think about them. Every head turns. I don’t explain. I don’t need to. They know what I mean. They moved with information. With planning. With structure. We’re the ones catching up.
Logan studies me for a second, then nods once like he’s filing that away. “Then we catch up fast.”
