Blaze’s POV
8:52 p.m. — South Carolina
Thirty-six hours.
That's how long I'd been surviving on coffee, brief naps, and sheer determination.
My eyes burned. My shoulders ached. Every muscle begged for sleep.
Didn't matter.
Seven children were missing.
And some bastard had left a note with Ava's name on it.
“Chain!” Edge barked.
“Working on it, Prez.”
The Razor Riders chapel resembled a war room.
Computers covered the table. Empty coffee cups littered every surface.
Dean rubbed his eyes. Grant paced.
Train studied the photographs from Project Orchid.
Nobody looked worth a damn.
“Santa Lucía,” Edge muttered.
“We already investigated that clinic.”
“Which makes it convenient to use again,” Chain replied.
“Especially if Pierce thinks we've stopped watching it.”
Domingo leane
