The hospital was quiet in a way that made Siena uneasy.
Too quiet.
Outside the emergency room, Alexander paced like a caged animal. His blazer was gone, shirt wrinkled and streaked with dried blood—not his own, thankfully, but from the chaos earlier. His phone was glued to his ear as he snapped orders to a private security team he'd hired overnight.
"I don't care what it costs, just lock down the entire perimeter," he barked. "Every exit. Every window. They got too close today."
Siena sat on a worn vinyl couch, knees pulled up to her chest. A blanket covered her shoulders, but it did nothing to chase away the chill inside her bones.
Someone had tried to kill them. In broad daylight. In front of cameras.
And they'd nearly succeeded.
Vivian had taken a bullet to the arm. One of the journalists had been rushed into surgery. And worst of all, the attacker had vanished—like smoke.
She blinked at the wall, trying to slow her breath, to stop the spinning in her chest.
Everything had changed in a minute.
"You okay?" Reeve asked gently, sitting beside her.
Siena nodded, but her face told the truth.
"No," she admitted. "I'm not."
He gave her a look that held quiet understanding.
"Then let's not pretend," he said. "What happened today… it wasn't just a warning. They're sending a message."
"They think they can scare us into silence."
"And if we're not smart, they'll succeed."
Siena glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. She didn't bother to hide it.
"You know what the worst part is?" she asked, her voice small. "I wasn't even surprised."
Reeve exhaled. "You've been living under threat for months, Siena. That kind of fear rewires everything. Your instincts are sharp. That's how you survive this."
"But surviving and living are not the same."
He leaned in. "You survive first. Then you fight to live again."
Alexander walked over, the phone finally down. His jaw was clenched, expression unreadable.
"I've moved the press files to a cloud backup. Military-grade encryption. Three copies with three separate keyholders," he said. "We're not losing the evidence."
Siena looked up. "And if they come for us instead?"
"Let them."
---
By nightfall, Alexander had arranged for Siena to be moved to a safe house on the outskirts of the city—an estate surrounded by private land, with only one road leading in or out.
The house itself was beautiful, but Siena barely noticed. Her mind was stuck replaying the press conference on a loop. The screams. The gunshots. The sound of glass shattering just inches from her head.
As she stepped into the guest room, she flinched when the security system beeped. Just the door locking. Nothing more.
But her heart raced anyway.
Alexander entered a few minutes later. He didn't knock.
"I'm not here to ask if you're okay," he said. "Because I know you're not."
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the carpet.
"But I'm here to tell you something."
She looked up.
"We fight back," he said.
"People are dying, Alex. This isn't just business anymore."
"It never was."
She stood, her voice sharp. "You think I don't know what's at stake? I've lost people too. I lost my father. I lost Dael. And now I almost lost you."
His eyes softened. "But you didn't."
She shook her head. "No. Not this time. But what about next time? What about the next bullet, the next shadow on the rooftop, the next false friend with a knife behind their back?"
"I can't promise we won't get hurt," he said. "But I can promise we won't go down without making them bleed for every inch they take."
Siena stared at him.
And then, quietly, she nodded.
"Then let's bleed together."
---
The next morning, Siena dressed like armor.
Black jeans. Black boots. A blazer that hugged her shoulders like a shield.
Her hair was tied back in a tight braid. Minimal makeup. Eyes sharp.
Today wasn't about hiding.
It was about declaring war.
She stepped into the secure meeting room where Reeve and Vivian waited with two more federal agents.
A whiteboard was covered in photos, documents, maps, and red strings like something out of a conspiracy movie—but this wasn't fiction. This was real.
Vivian stood.
"We have a plan," she said. "It's risky. But it's our best shot."
She pointed to a name circled in red: Bridget Vaughn.
"She's Holden's money manager. She knows the full layout of his shell companies, and more importantly—she's scared. We got word from a source inside that she's trying to flee the country."
Reeve added, "If we get to her first, she could give us everything."
Siena asked, "Where is she now?"
"Still in the city. But not for long."
"Then let's go get her."
Alexander folded his arms. "And what if it's a trap?"
"Then we walk into it smart."
Vivian nodded. "We use her fear against him. We get her to talk. And if we're lucky—we end this before more people die."
---
That afternoon, Siena, Reeve, and two federal agents followed a tracked signal to an upscale condo building near the city's financial district.
The air was tense as they took the elevator up to the penthouse.
Reeve knocked three times.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
Just as they were about to break in, the door creaked open.
A woman with frazzled hair and bloodshot eyes peeked out.
Bridget Vaughn.
She was pale, shaking, and barefoot.
"I didn't do anything," she whispered immediately. "I swear—I just followed orders. I didn't know they were killing people. I didn't know—"
"Bridget," Siena said gently, "We're not here to hurt you. But if you want to live, you need to talk. Now."
Bridget's eyes welled up.
"I'll give you everything," she said. "Just get me out of here."
---
Back at the safe house, Bridget began talking.
And once she started, she didn't stop.
She told them about the wire transfers, the encrypted messages, the blackmail rings, and the way Richard Holden kept tabs on every powerful person in the city. Judges, bankers, politicians. All compromised. All connected.
"He has a kill switch," she whispered. "A server that will release everything if he dies. Names, recordings, secrets. That's why no one dares touch him."
"Where is it?" Siena asked.
"I don't know. But I know who built it."
---
The next target was a name Siena hadn't heard before: Milo Trent.
An underground tech genius. A ghost in the system. If Bridget was telling the truth, Milo was the architect behind Holden's digital empire.
And now, he was their next lead.
Alexander looked at Siena across the strategy table.
"You still in this?"
She didn't hesitate.
"I'm in it until the end."
Reeve nodded. "Then buckle up. Because now... we go hunting."