“I’ll come with you,” Zy offered. “I’ll devote all my energy—”
“No. This shit is centered around Valeria Montilla. Trees and Kane are going to protect and relocate her pronto—and we’ll be monitoring every step. But none of that will mean shit if you can’t figure out our mole. Two fucking weeks—max—or they’re both off the fucking payroll and we bury them professionally. If you fail, we’ll do the same to your fucking ass, too.”
Logan tore out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. After some shouting in the hall and more door slamming in the distance, the office fell silent.
Two weeks? Zy cursed. He had to start planning and setting some wheels in motion now—or they were all fucked.