The meeting ended.
Owen and Chloe exited Jack's office.
On the way downstairs, Owen casually glanced toward Neymar's workstation.
The tech specialist was completely focused on his screen, showing no sign that he was even aware of what had just happened upstairs. If they didn't already know he was the mole, there'd be no reason to suspect him.
Both he and Chloe returned to their respective desks.
Almost immediately, Owen felt Tony and Nina's eyes on him.
They weren't trying to be subtle.
For the past few days, Owen had been in constant contact with Chloe. Chloe, in turn, frequently reported to Jack.
If someone was paying attention, it wouldn't be hard to notice something was off.
As leaders of their respective teams, Tony and Nina had sharp instincts.
If Jack had intel, why wasn't he looping them in?
Instead, he was bypassing them—communicating only with Owen and Chloe.
That was not standard protocol.
Owen watched as the two exchanged glances and walked toward Jack's office.
He wasn't sure if they were confronting him about this situation—but when they emerged a few minutes later, their expressions were unreadable.
Jack had probably brushed them off.
Regardless, the plan remained unchanged.
Even though they knew Neymar was the traitor, the bait operation had to continue.
The morning test run had yielded nothing.
Whether that was because Neymar hadn't passed the info along or because the mercs had been hesitant to act—they didn't know.
So they were running it again this afternoon.
This time, they'd be watching Neymar closely.
At exactly 3:00 PM, Owen drove out of CTU.
Tony led an external response team—half his field agents, plus a tactical team—standing by.
Above them, thousands of meters in the sky, a satellite locked onto Owen's vehicle.
His every movement was monitored in real-time.
Chloe controlled the satellite feed, while Nina stood behind her, overseeing the operation.
Earlier, Chloe had pretended to be overwhelmed with work and had Neymar request NSA satellite access on her behalf.
Meanwhile, Jack sat in his office, using his highest-level clearance to remotely monitor Neymar's computer screen.
The mole was completely unaware that every keystroke was being watched.
Owen drove onto the highway.
The car he was using—provided by CTU—looked like a standard civilian vehicle.
But beneath its exterior, it had been heavily modified.
Reinforced armor. Bulletproof glass.
Owen himself wore a heavy-duty ballistic vest.
An assault rifle lay within arm's reach in the passenger seat.
If something happened, he was more than prepared to hold out until backup arrived.
And all their precautions weren't in vain.
A few minutes after leaving CTU, a white Toyota SUV started following him.
It kept its distance, maintaining several cars between them.
But it was clearly tracking him.
Inside the SUV, five men sat fully armed.
They wore light-colored tactical gear, protective eyewear, and baseball caps.
And if one looked closely—
They would recognize them.
These were the same mercenaries who had previously searched for Owen in the abandoned house—only to accidentally run into SWAT's C-Team.
That day, they had lost several of their men.
They never found Owen.
But by pure luck, they had arrived late to the ambush on Alex's convoy—
And managed to capture Alex themselves.
For a brief moment, they thought they'd won.
One hundred million dollars—
The biggest payday of their lives.
And then, in the final moments—
Owen showed up.
In an instant, their dreams were shattered.
Not only did he kill their comrades—
He delivered Alex straight into the military's hands.
The one-billion-dollar reward was gone.
Vanished.
Because of him.
Their hatred for Owen was personal.
They had wanted revenge.
But he had disappeared into CTU.
And when he did go out—
He was surrounded by security.
Then, the hunts began.
FBI.
CTU.
Local police.
Every day, more mercenary squads were hunted down and eliminated.
These men had been forced into hiding—eating military rations in some abandoned shack, unable to go outside.
That morning, the group had argued.
Some wanted to leave Los Angeles.
Staying was suicidal.
Every day, more mercenaries disappeared.
But just as they were debating—
The Montell family's bounty order arrived.
One billion was gone.
But two million was still something.
And now—
They had intel.
They knew where Owen was going.
So they stayed.
And now, by some miracle—
Owen was right in front of them.
A trap?
Or divine providence?
Inside the SUV, the driver hesitated.
"Are we really doing this?"
One of the men—an ex-military operative—spoke.
"Of course. Are you really okay leaving empty-handed?
"We lost nine men.
"And we got nothing for it.
"They died for nothing.
"Are you okay with that?"
The driver stayed silent.
He was one of the ones who had wanted to leave.
But he wasn't in charge.
Sitting in the front passenger seat was Andrew—
The leader of their team.
He had already made the decision.
The rest were soldiers.
They followed orders.
In Owen's earpiece, Nina's voice came through.
"Owen, take the next exit."
Jack was staying out of sight to monitor Neymar.
So Nina was running the operation.
Owen was currently on the outer ring highway.
If anyone was tailing him, the easiest way to confirm was to leave the highway and see who followed.
"Copy."
Owen smoothly exited onto a ramp, his car slowing slightly.
Behind him—
Two vehicles followed suit.
Nina watched the satellite feed, her voice steady.
"Confirmed. White Toyota SUV is hostile."
Owen felt a surge of adrenaline.
Finally.
Someone had taken the bait.
He had spent half the damn day driving in circles.
And now, it was showtime.
Nina analyzed the map.
"Chloe, pull back the satellite view. I need a wider terrain assessment."
Chloe adjusted the feed, displaying a larger section of the city.
Red-marked traffic zones appeared on the map.
Nina traced a path with her eyes.
"Owen, listen carefully.
"Avoid Dresden Plaza.
"Take Lincoln Drive instead.
"We're leading them to Wilton Street—the construction zone.
"It's a dead end.
"We'll take them out there."
Owen smiled.
"Understood."
He smoothly adjusted his course, taking a side road.
Wilton Street was about four blocks away.
He had to keep the pace slow, giving Tony's team time to set up.
Meanwhile—
A few blocks away—
Several unmarked SUVs were racing toward the ambush site.
Tony and the tactical team were en route.
Tony checked his PDA.
A blue dot marked Owen's position.
They were nearly at Wilton Street.
They had two minutes to set up.
Tires screeched as their convoy skidded to a halt.
Doors burst open.
Agents jumped out—
"GO! GO! GO!"
In seconds—
Barricades were formed.
Positions were taken.
Rifles were aimed.
Tony pressed his radio.
"Combat team in position."
_________________________
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