The smell of smoke still lingered in Siena's hair.
She hadn't realized how tightly she was gripping her phone until her fingers ached. They were back in the safe house by the coast—an inconspicuous two-story home with peeling paint, an old fireplace, and barely functioning plumbing. But it was secure. Hidden. Monitored.
And now, it felt like the eye of a storm.
"You sure you're okay?" Alexander's voice came low beside her, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
Siena looked up at him from the worn couch. He hadn't changed out of the black sweater and dark jeans from last night. He hadn't slept either. None of them had.
"I'm just... tired," she said, though the truth felt heavier than exhaustion.
"We've taken down Holden's biggest weapon," he said. "This is the first time in months we're finally ahead."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. But he's not going to lie down and die."
"No. He won't." Alexander's eyes were steady, calm. Too calm. "Which is why we need to be ready."
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Reeve entered the room, his expression unusually hard.
"He knows."
Siena's heart skipped. "Holden?"
Reeve nodded. "Not just about the server. He knows Milo helped. And he's already started cleaning house."
"What do you mean?" Alexander asked.
Reeve pulled up his tablet and handed it over. The screen displayed a surveillance photo—blurry but unmistakable. Milo's shop, or what was left of it. Reduced to ash. Smoke still rising.
"He blew it up," Siena whispered.
Reeve confirmed it. "Nobody found, but they're searching. We warned Milo to relocate, but whether he did in time…"
Alexander's jaw clenched. "Holden's lashing out."
Reeve nodded grimly. "And it's not just Milo. Two reporters we fed information to have gone missing. Jasper's being watched. His girlfriend got followed home."
Siena's pulse quickened. "So what now? We wait until he picks us off one by one?"
"No," Alexander said quietly. "Now we push forward. Harder. Faster."
---
The plan was already in motion.
The files extracted from the mobile server contained more than just blackmail.
There were financial records. Offshore accounts. Shell companies tracing directly back to Holden, some under names they'd never even seen before. Reeve's team spent hours verifying the paper trail.
But the most damning piece?
A video.
Buried in an encrypted folder with no name.
Siena watched it in silence. Her stomach turned.
The footage was grainy but clear enough. A young woman, strapped to a chair in a windowless room. Crying. Begging.
And Holden's voice in the background, calm and cold.
"Cooperate, and no one needs to get hurt."
Siena didn't recognize the woman, but it didn't matter. She was real. And she was proof.
"This is what he does," Siena said, her voice hollow. "People are just tools to him."
Reeve copied the footage to multiple drives. "We leak this strategically. Not all at once. We control the story."
Alexander was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Siena.
"We go public. You and I."
She blinked. "What?"
"Not as victims. As survivors. As witnesses. We make this personal. We humanize the story before Holden spins his version."
Siena stared at him. "You're talking about exposing ourselves. To everyone. The media. The courts. His people."
"Yes," Alexander said. "Because the longer we hide, the more power he has. But if we step into the light—on our terms—he'll have to play defense."
Reeve raised an eyebrow. "That's a hell of a risk."
"It is," Alexander agreed. "But it's time we stop running."
---
They held the press conference in a small hall downtown, booked under an alias.
Only hand-picked journalists were invited. No cameras. Just recorders and notebooks. The story had to start small and contained—until the right moment to explode.
Siena sat beside Alexander, dressed simply in black slacks and a navy blouse. Her hands trembled in her lap.
"Breathe," he whispered before the door opened.
The room filled quickly. Siena recognized some of the names—investigative journalists, legal analysts, and a few faces from fringe political blogs.
When it was quiet, Alexander stood.
"Thank you for coming," he began. "You're here today because we have evidence—real, verified evidence—of widespread corruption, coercion, and abuse tied to Richard Holden."
A few pens paused mid-air.
He continued, "We're not here for attention. We're here because we've reached the point where silence is no longer an option. My name is Alexander Knight. My family has been entangled with Holden for decades. I believed in him once. I even worked beside him. But I saw what he was doing behind closed doors."
He paused. The weight of that confession hanging in the air.
Then Siena stood up, slowly.
"My name is Siena Hart," she said. "I was engaged to his son. And I lost someone I loved to his lies. Holden doesn't just run a company. He runs a system. One built on fear, silence, and manipulation."
A ripple of whispers spread.
Siena held her ground. "We have documents, recordings, and testimony. We're not asking you to believe us. We're asking you to look at the evidence and decide for yourselves."
---
That night, they watched the first stories break online.
Not front page news. Not yet.
But enough.
Enough for Holden to know they weren't hiding anymore.
Siena sat beside Alexander in the safe house's tiny living room, her legs curled beneath her, eyes still locked on the screen.
"I can't believe we did that," she said softly.
Alexander put an arm around her. "You were brilliant."
"I was terrified."
"That's why it mattered."
He kissed the top of her head. For a moment, everything felt still. Safe.
But then the power cut out.
All the lights.
The monitors. The heater. Everything.
Total silence.
Siena froze.
Alexander was already on his feet. "Reeve?"
No answer.
They both rushed to the hall—Siena's heart pounding like a war drum.
The hallway was empty.
But the front door?
Open.
Wide.
Reeve was gone.