Page 125 of Ronan

I pull thermal overlays across the subterranean corridor Ronan is shadowing, then widen the scope to include adjacent tunnels, inactive nodes, and blind bends in the infrastructure.

There.

A secondary chamber branching off the staging node.

Smaller. Cleaner. New restraints.

I whisper, “Malenkov, you bastard.”

Because this isn’t redundancy.

This is bait.

I open the secure channel immediately.

“Ronan,” I say. “Do not accelerate.”

His voice comes back calm, controlled. “We’re holding shadow.”

“Good,” I reply. “Because he’s building a second pressure point.”

Silence.

Then, carefully, “Explain.”

“He’s not just moving Jonah,” I say. “He’s positioning leverage—parallel asset. Female. Civilian classification. She’s not meant to survive long-term.”

Aaron cuts in, sharp. “Another hostage?”

“Not a hostage,” I correct. “A trigger. I’m sure he’s going to use her to get Jonah to talk.”

Ronan exhales slowly. I can hear the restraint in it—theinstinct to strike, to shut this down hard and fast.

I don’t give him time to spiral.

“He wants you to choose,” I continue. “Jonah or the unknown variable. Movement or hesitation. Either way, you break cover.”

“And if we don’t?” Miles asks.

“Then he escalates,” I answer. “Publicly. Sloppily. Somewhere youcan’tignore.”

I pull up the profile I’ve already started building.

Age range. Travel history. Journalistic overlaps. Finding out if anyone is missing.

Then the name resolves.

I freeze.

This is bad.

“Lena?” Ronan says quietly.

“She’s a journalist,” I say. “Professionally, I’m sure Jonah knows her, and she must know who he is. She chased the paper trail before your team disappeared.”

Aaron swears under his breath.

Malenkov didn’t just grab leverage.