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“We’ve done more with less time,” Eden said. She looked at Elena directly. “But you need to understand something. Once that virus activates, the cartel will know you betrayed them. They’ll come after you. Hard. This doesn’t end with us walking away clean.”

“I know,” Elena said. “I accepted that when I agreed to do this.”

“Did you?” Eden’s dark eyes were intense. “Because there’s a difference between intellectually knowing something and being ready for it. When they realize what you’ve done, they won’t just want you dead. They’ll want you to suffer. Are you prepared for that?”

The cabin went quiet. Elena felt Brock tense beside her.

“Yes,” Elena said firmly. “Because the alternative is Marguerite suffering instead of me. And I won’t let that happen.”

Eden studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Good. Just wanted to make sure you understood what you’re walking into.”

“I survived them once,” Elena said. “I’ll survive them again.”

“Absolutely,” Brock said. “Because you won’t be alone this time.”

Susan returned with dinner trays—grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, wild rice. A meal that seemed absurd given what they were planning, but Elena realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten properly in days.

They ate in comfortable silence, the tension from the briefing settling into focused determination. This was real. It was happening. In less than three days, she’d be facing the men who’d destroyed her life.

But this time, she had a team. This time, she had Brock. This time, she had a plan.

After dinner, Nate pulled out a deck of cards. “Anyone up for poker? We’ve got two hours before Miami.”

“I’m in,” Eden said immediately.

“You’re not playing for money again, are you?” Brock asked. “Last time you cleaned out half my team.”

“That’s because half of your team can’t bluff to save their lives,” Eden replied with a smirk.

They played three hands. Eden won two of them. Nate accused her of cheating. She accused him of being a sore loser. They argued with an easy affection that came from years of partnership.

Elena watched them, trying to imagine what it would be like to have that kind of relationship. To trust someone so completely that you could argue without fear, tease without cruelty, depend on each other without question.

She glanced at Brock. He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking about how far you’ve come.”

“I haven’t come that far.”

“You’re here. You trusted me enough to tell me about Marguerite. You’re letting the team help you. That’s huge, Elena.”

“Eden said the same thing.”

“Because it’s true.” He laced his fingers through hers. “And when this is over, when Marguerite is safe and the cartel is destroyed, maybe you’ll let yourself believe it.”

Mira’s voice came over the intercom. “We’ve got touchdown in fifteen minutes. Everyone fasten your seat belts.”

Elena’s heart rate picked up, her pulse loud in her ears. Through the window, she could see Miami spreading out below them—a sprawling grid of lights against the dark ocean, thousands of lives being lived in blissful ignorance of the danger gathering in their midst. Miami meant passports. New identities. One step closer to Mexico. One step closer to the temple where nightmares lived. Her hands had gone cold despite the climate-controlled cabin. She rubbed them together, trying to generate warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.

“You ready for this?” Brock asked, his voice low and concerned.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t ready. Would never be ready. But ready or not, she was doing this because Marguerite was counting on her.

Brock’s hand covered both of hers, his warmth seeping into her frozen fingers. “Hey. Look at me.” She did, meeting those hazel-green eyes that had always watched her with unwavering patience. “You don’t have to be ready,” he said. “You just have to show up. The team and I will handle the rest. All you have to do is be there and trust us.”

“I do trust you.” The words came easier than she expected. “That’s the scary part.”