My future mother-in-law ripped the insulin pump from my waist at my sister’s wedding, threw it into a bin of lobster shells, and laughed, "There. Now you’re cured of your need for attention."

Lucas picked up my phone, his eyes scanning the image and text message in a fraction of a second. His calm, professional demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by the terrifying focus of a trained federal operative.

He tapped his earpiece. "Task Force Leader Vance to Command. We have a Code Red hostage situation. Intercept signal on Elena Miller’s device. Trace the IP origin of the incoming media file immediately."

A voice crackled through his earpiece: "Trace locked, Agent Vance. Signal bounced off a cell tower in the industrial docks near Warehouse 14. Vehicle registered to Julian Blackwood’s private security firm."

Lucas looked at me, his hand resting on his sidearm holster. "Julian. He’s desperate. He knows the grand jury is convening tomorrow morning, and he’s using Chloe as a human shield to force you to trade the USB drive."

"We have to save her," I said, my voice shaking despite my anger toward my sister. "She’s terrible, she treated me like trash, but she’s still my sister, Lucas. I can't let them kill her."

"We're going to save her, Elena," Lucas promised, grabbing the steel box and locking it. "But we're doing this on my terms. Julian thinks he's dealing with a grieving civilian. He has no idea I have two SWAT teams already moving toward Warehouse 14."

"I'm coming with you," I said firmly, standing up from the table.

"Elena, no," Lucas warned, grabbing my shoulder. "It's too dangerous. Warehouse 14 is a hostile zone."

"He demanded me, Lucas!" I argued, looking him dead in the eye. "If Julian doesn't see me walk up to that dock with the box, he will panic and pull the trigger. You know I'm right."

Lucas stared at me for three long seconds, evaluating the fierce resolve in my eyes. He let out a low breath, nodding slowly.

"Alright," Lucas said. "You come in the armored vehicle with me. You stay behind my bulletproof shield until I give the clear signal. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

Ten minutes later, we were speeding through the rain-slicked industrial district of the city in an unmarked black FBI assault van. Inside, six heavily armed SWAT officers in full tactical gear were checking their automatic rifles, night-vision goggles, and entry equipment.

Lucas pulled a lightweight Kevlar vest from a storage rack and helped me slide it over my head, tightening the side straps around my waist.

"Listen to me, Elena," Lucas said, reaching out to touch my face gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "Julian is cornered. A cornered animal is unpredictable. The second you step into his line of sight, keep your hands visible, keep your voice calm, and let me handle the tactical entry."