“I get that,” I say, keeping my voice even. “But where is she supposed to go? The ranch is a no-go. I’m not putting Hop, Nysa, or Maddy in danger.”

Sanford exhales. “Look, we all want the same thing. But we can’t afford mistakes. Winston is going to see us coming. We have to be smart.”

I nod once. “Fine. Then let’s be smart.”

I shift my stance, rolling my shoulders.

“First,” I say, “we need to assume Winston already knows something’s off. If we can track his people, he can track ours. You said it, they got an agent and⁠—”

“An agent posing as a single woman.” Cassian is the one who interrupts me. “Let’s clarify that the reason they got her was because she looked a lot like Blythe, and we thought she’d be okay on her own with her training.”

“We believe that they killed her once they realized she wasn’t Winston’s wife,” Sanford adds. “This only means that Blythe did leave a trail while passing through other towns. They might not know where she went, but they’re on her track. The thing is, we have to be careful so they don’t see us coming.”

“We can’t move like we’re planning a takedown,” I say. “But what if we handle it like something else?”

Cass raises a brow. “Like what? A reunion party?”

Sanford smirks. “A trade.”

Malerick studies me, his expression calculating. “And what exactly are we trading?”

I meet his gaze, my mind already moving ahead, mapping out what comes next.

“Something the Miami Syndicate wants. We’ll distract them, they’ll forget about Winston and . . .” Sanford just shrugs.

Cassian whistles under his breath. “I like where this is going.”

I glance at Sanford. “How fast can your people get eyes on his setup?”

“They already have.”

“Good.” I exhale slowly, tension coiling tight in my chest. Every part of me knows we have to make sure this is airtight or we’ll lose not only people, but Blythe.

Sanford leans forward, tapping the map on the table. “We need to make this look real. If the Hollow Syndicate thinks they’re walking into a setup, they’ll burn everything and disappear.”

Cassian’s grin is sharp. “Then . . . and this is just me. Why don’t we just focus on him, Winston? We give him exactly what he wants.”

I cross my arms. “Which is?”

Sanford doesn’t hesitate. “Blythe.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Everything in me locks up. The air shifts, heavy with a tension that tightens around my ribs like a noose. I already know where this is going, and I fucking hate it. “No.” My voice is steel. “Not happening.”

Malerick rubs his temple like he expected my reaction. “We’re not saying we use her as actual bait, Atlas. We just need to dangle something Winston can’t resist.”