“Tactical assessment, Elena?” Maya asked, racking her slide with a fluid, soundless flick of her wrist.
I checked the tritium night sights on my weapon, my heart rate locking into an icy, unshakeable forty-eight beats per minute.
“Subject demonstrates sociopathic entitlement, territorial dominance, and predatory grooming behavior,” I replied, clipping the cuffs to my tactical belt. “He was too comfortable with extortion. A man doesn’t ask for a woman’s body as a neighborhood trade unless he’s done it before.”
Maya nodded, her gray eyes turning to cold slate.
“We breach at twenty-one-hundred hours,” she said. “Let’s see what our neighbor keeps behind his curtain.”
Chapter 2: The Knock at 9:00 PM and the Five-Second Takedown
At 8:55 PM, the sun had died behind the western tree line, leaving the suburb bathed in heavy, blue-black shadows.
A gentle summer wind rustled the leaves of the silver maples, carrying the faint scent of charcoal smoke from a distant dinner and the quiet drone of a lawn sprinkler three houses down.
Brad’s house was a split-level ranch with drawn curtains. Through the sheer linen of his living room bay window, warm amber light flickered—scented vanilla candles. On the glass coffee table inside, an open bottle of cheap sparkling wine sat chilling in a silver-plated bucket beside two flutes.
Brad sat on his leather sofa wearing a knee-length burgundy silk bathrobe, freshly shaved, smelling of drugstore cologne, humming an off-key tune as he adjusted the collar of his robe to expose his tattooed chest.
Across the lawn, moving like two drops of ink through water, we took our positions.
Maya slipped into the blind spot behind Brad’s front porch trellis, blending completely into the shadow of the climbing hydrangeas, her suppressed sidearm held in the low-ready position.
I stepped onto the front porch.
