Grayson’s SUV screeched to a halt in the Marina District, the rusted silhouette of Building 12 looming against the night sky like a forgotten relic. The text—Come alone, or she dies—burned in his mind. Luna’s bruised face and defiant plea replayed like a relentless nightmare. Trap or not, he’d walk through fire to bring her home.

His fingers brushed the concealed Glock at his waist, its cold weight a reminder of the stakes. He wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t trained for this, but for ...