Lynn paced back and forth in the safehouse, her heels clicking against the tiled floor like gunshots in an empty hall.
> "He erased the cameras?" she asked for the third time.
Lwandile, seated at the tech desk, nodded grimly. "Not just erased. Wiped clean like they were never installed. The man has reach, Lynn. Too much."
Michael stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed, watching her like a fuse about to blow.
> "So what now?" he finally asked.
Lynn turned sharply. "We hit back. No more waiting for them to make the first move."
She pulled a folded paper from her coat pocket and slapped it on the table. It was a list — handwritten, messy, but unmistakably dangerous.
> "These are the shell companies under Mokoena's control. I recognized three of them from a case I buried years ago. He's been laundering money, pushing fake charity fronts, and blackmailing influencers into silence."
Lwandile leaned in, eyes wide. "How did you get this?"
Lynn met his gaze. "My mother didn't raise a fool. I kept copies of everything before I walked away from that life. Even the things that could bury me."
Michael whistled low. "So you've been sitting on evidence all this time?"
> "Not sitting," Lynn said. "Protecting. Until now."
She turned to Michael, her voice low and raw. "I thought I could outrun the past, that if I just stayed clean, I wouldn't have to use this. But now… Mokoena crossed a line."
Michael stepped closer. "We go public?"
Lwandile shook his head. "Too risky. If we expose him without proof that sticks, he'll bury us. We need someone from the inside. Someone who can tie it all together."
Lynn's eyes narrowed. "Zee."
Michael's jaw tightened. "You trust her?"
> "No," Lynn said. "But I trust her desperation. And right now, she knows she's disposable to Mokoena."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Lynn whispered, almost to herself:
> "He thinks I'll back down. That I'm scared. But he forgot one thing."
Michael looked at her, waiting.
She met his eyes, fire burning bright.
> "I don't lose."
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