Iris Pov
The SUV moves through Manhattan in silence.
Iris sits in the back seat between two men who don't acknowledge her existence. They're both muscular. Both professional. Both looking straight ahead like she's not there.
She tries to memorize the route. Left turn. Right turn. Highway entrance. But the tinted windows make it impossible to see street signs. She can see shapes moving past. The blur of other cars. The ambient glow of city lights. But nothing concrete. Nothing that would help her know where she is.
The drive is twenty minutes or two hours. Her mind can't decide which.
Her phone is still in her pocket. She could try calling for help. But calling who? Sophie? The police? Her family who stopped speaking to her years ago when she chose her career over their expectations?
She has no one.
The men don't take her phone. They don't search her. They don't speak to her at all. It's like she's a package being transported from one location to another. Important enough to guard. Not important enough to acknowledge.
The SUV finally stops.
Iris feels the vehicle shift as it enters an underground parking garage. The engine cuts off. The silence that follows is thick.
"Come with us," one of the men says.
Iris steps out of the vehicle.
The parking garage is massive. Multiple levels. Expensive cars parked in perfectly organized rows. They walk toward an elevator that's twice the size of a normal one. The kind of elevator built for people who own entire buildings.
The man presses a button. Just one. Not even a floor number visible. Just a button that probably only works for certain people.
The doors close.
The elevator begins to climb.
Iris watches the digital display change. Level B2. Level B1. Ground floor. The elevator doesn't stop. It just keeps rising. Higher and higher. Carrying her toward something she can't see or understand.
Floor fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. The elevator shows no sign of stopping.
Iris presses her forehead against the cool metal wall and tries not to panic. Her breathing is getting tight. Everything inside her is screaming that this is the moment where her life ends.
Floor thirty-five. Forty. Forty-two.
The elevator finally stops.
The doors open to reveal a penthouse office.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook Manhattan. The city is spread below them like a kingdom waiting to be controlled. She can see Central Park from here. She can see all of Manhattan. She's so high up that the people on the streets below are invisible.
A man stands by the window with his back to her.
He's tall. Maybe six foot two. He's wearing a suit that probably costs more than her annual salary. His hair is dark. His shoulders are broad. He looks like he owns the world and is waiting to see if it's worth keeping.
He doesn't turn around.
"Leave us," he says to the men who brought her.
They leave without question.
The man at the window continues staring out at the city. "Iris Chen," he says finally. Not as a question. As a statement of fact. "You published a very impressive report."
"Who are you?" Iris asks.
The man turns to face her.
He's probably in his mid-thirties. Handsome in a way that feels dangerous. His eyes are cold and calculating and brilliant. This is the kind of man who breaks people for profit and sleeps well at night.
But when he looks at her, something flickers across his face. Something quick. Something he tries to hide.
"My name is Dominic Moretti," he says simply.
The name hits her like a physical blow.
She knows this name. She traced accounts connected to this name. She documented the invisible empire that belongs to this man. She exposed him to federal authorities.
And now he's standing in front of her.
"You exposed my entire financial structure," Dominic says. No anger in his voice. No threat. Just observation. But his eyes are studying her like she's a puzzle he needs to solve.
"I reported facts," Iris says.
"You reported facts you interpreted through the lens of someone who's never lived in my world," Dominic continues. He steps closer. "That report will cause deaths. Families will suffer. Blood will be on your hands."
He stops a few feet away. Not close enough to touch. But close enough that she can feel the intensity radiating from him.
"Which is why," he says quietly, "you're going to help me fix this."
Iris stares at him. His eyes are still studying hers. And she realizes he's not just looking at her. He's reading her.
"What?" she asks.
"You exposed something you don't understand. Now you're going to help me address the consequences." He gestures around the penthouse. "You're going to stay here. You're going to work for me. And you're going to find the person inside my organization who's bleeding information to my enemies."
"And if I refuse?" Iris asks.
Dominic's eyes don't break from hers. "Then you were right. You are radioactive. And I'm the only person on this planet willing to touch you."
The word "touch" hangs between them. It's a word he didn't need to use. And Iris isn't sure if he used it by accident or on purpose.
"You're going to take the contract I offer you," Dominic continues. "Or you're going to leave this penthouse and disappear into a world that's already hunting you. You'll last maybe a week before someone finds you. Someone who won't be as interested in keeping you alive."
He turns back to the window.
"I'm giving you a choice, Miss Chen. That's more than you'll get anywhere else."