At the sight of his empty chair, I faltered. “Where is he?” I demanded.

My parents exchanged looks, and my mother answered, “Someone texted him. He said he had to take a call in private. He excused himself right after Juliette went upstairs to grab you all for dinner.”

Juliette took off for the guest room, but I knew, I already knew, he was gone.

Balancing my laptop on one palm, I fought the sick feeling of dread and opened my tracking app. “Get my brothers,” I ordered Hudson, my voice steel despite the panic threatening to take hold. “Tell the guys you had rotating outside the hotel in Brooklyn to stand by.”

Hudson disappeared down the hall as my parents stood, questions flying, none of which I had time to answer. My focus was locked on my screen as I pulled up the last message Colin had received.

Juliette reappeared, exclaiming, “He’s not in his room! I can’t find him.”

“I know.” My blood turned to ice as I viewed the video text sent to Colin. I forced myself to breathe. To stay steady. This wasn’t the time for paternal instincts to make me reckless. This was a time for cold, calculating precision. A time for the killer in me to come out, not the father. “He’s already on the move.”

“What? How?” Juliette’s hands pressed against her stomach as if the weight of this might make her physically sick.

“This place is designed to keep danger out,” my father said as my brothers, Izzy, and Hudson entered the room, “not to keep people from leaving.”

“My keys are missing,” Hudson revealed. “And a security detail’s elevator keycard is gone.” He shook his head in apology.

Not his fault.

This was all mine.

I should have seen this coming.

The only way to get Colin away from me . . .

“They have his girlfriend.” The words left me like a gunshot. “He’s been instructed to meet them in Brooklyn. To come alone, or she dies.” I handed over my laptop to Alessandro. “We’re already ten minutes behind him.” I faced Hudson. “Grab our gear. We roll out now.” With as much faith as I could muster, I whispered, “I am not coming back without our son.”

44. Constantine

Chapter 44

Constantine

As Hudson drove us to our target location in Brooklyn, I flipped my Ruger AR-556 rifle onto its side, inspected the magazine, and waited for Izzy to recheck the intel she’d already shared over speakerphone.

“One more second,” she said.

I confirmed the mag was full, slapped it back in place, then racked the charging handle, chambering a round. My thumb slid over the safety, but I left it on for now.

The scope was already dialed in for mid-range combat. My plated vest was stocked with ammo, smoke grenades, and flashbangs. My Glock 19 was secured at my side, my helmet in place—despite the rushed exit, I was ready.