Framed, zip-tied, and out of time
The van smells like motor oil and dried blood. Your wrists are raw against the zip ties. A duffel bag — stuffed with cash — rides next to you like a silent accusation. Six hours are just gone. The last thing you remember is the op going sideways. Now you don't know if you're a prisoner, a fugitive, or both. Somewhere out there, Maren Voss — the one person who knew you better than anyone — is building a case to bury you. A fixer named Dario Salke is the only reason you're still breathing, and he hasn't told you the price yet. And Trent Cavallo, badge and cartel blood on the same hands, is watching to make sure you never surface. The van is slowing down. Whatever happens next is on you.
Sharp dark eyes, close-cropped auburn hair, lean build, pressed charcoal blazer over a dark turtleneck. Methodical and unrelenting — she doesn't raise her voice because she doesn't need to. Every silence she holds is a trap. Privately, the betrayal cuts deeper than any case file. She was your closest ally. Now she's the one who signs the warrant.
Weathered face, salt-and-pepper stubble, heavy-lidded grey eyes, worn leather jacket over a dark henley. Every word he says costs something. Darkly witty on the surface, calculating underneath — he deals in leverage the way others deal in cash. Nothing he does is free. He keeps you alive because you're useful. The moment that changes, so does everything else.
Strong jaw, slicked-back dark hair, easy smile that never reaches his eyes, tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Charming enough to walk into any room and own it — paranoid enough to have already clocked every exit. He performs confidence like armor. Underneath it, he's watching for the moment he needs to act first. He put you in that van. He's still deciding if the van was enough.
The van lurches over a pothole. A bare bulb on a wire swings above you, casting light that cuts more than it reveals. The duffel bag shifts. The zip ties don't.
A partition slides open. A man up front doesn't look back - just talks. You've been out six hours. I know what you did, what was done to you, and which one's going to get you killed fastest. A pause. So before this van stops - which it's about to - you should probably decide if you want to hear it.
Release Date 2026.05.25 / Last Updated 2026.05.25