The FBI agents were real. Credentials checked out. But their questions felt like traps.
'Your father, Malcolm Thornton, was arrested this morning on suspicion of orchestrating Adrian Thornton's poisoning.' The lead agent—Kimball, middle-aged, sharp-eyed—sat across from them in the safe house. 'We have evidence of a financial transaction. Two million dollars transferred to an offshore account belonging to a known contract killer. The payment originated from a shell company your father controls.'
Isla's world tilted. 'That's impossible. My father wouldn't—'
'Your father has motive, means, and opportunity.' Kimball's expression was professional, sympathetic, but unyielding. 'Adrian threatened his daughter. Escaped federal custody. Your father has a history of solving problems with money and force. It's not a stretch.'
'It's a frame job.' Ryder's voice was flat, certain. 'Someone's setting Malcolm up. Who discovered the transaction?'
'Anonymous tip. Came through our hotline yesterday. Complete with account numbers, transfer dates, and the contractor's real identity.' Kimball pulled out a tablet. 'The contractor was found dead this morning. Single gunshot to the head. Execution style. Before we could question him about who hired him.'
'Convenient.' Ryder stood, pacing. 'Someone orchestrates the poisoning, frames Malcolm, then eliminates the hired gun before he can talk. This is professional. Calculated. Adrian couldn't have set this up from a coma.'
'Which is why we're talking to you.' Kimball's gaze sharpened. 'Who else has motive? Who benefits from Adrian in a coma and Malcolm in prison?'
Isla's mind raced through possibilities. Business rivals. Family members. Board members with grudges. The list was extensive, the motives complex. 'Half of Manhattan's elite have reasons to destroy my family. We need more than motive. We need evidence.'
'We're working on it. But right now, your father's being held pending arraignment. His lawyers are good, but the evidence is damning.' Kimball stood. 'I'd suggest you both stay available. We'll have more questions.'
After the FBI left, Isla collapsed onto the couch, her head spinning. 'Someone's dismantling my family piece by piece. Adrian in a coma. My father arrested. Marcus compromised. Who's next? Me?'
'Not you. Never you.' Ryder's voice was fierce. 'I'll die before I let anyone hurt you again.'
'That's exactly what I'm afraid of.' She pulled him down beside her. 'You keep taking bullets for me. Literal and metaphorical. At some point, even you can't survive everything.'
'Then we don't give them chances to shoot.' His jaw set with determination. 'We go on offense. Stop reacting and start hunting. Find Adrian's accomplice before they make their next move.'
'How? The FBI has more resources than us.'
'The FBI follows rules. We don't.' Ryder pulled up his laptop. 'I have contacts from my military days. People who specialize in finding people who don't want to be found. It's time I called in some favors.'
He made three calls in quick succession, speaking in tactical shorthand that Isla only partially understood. By the third call, he had a name. A lead. Something concrete.
'Marcus. Your old head of security.' Ryder's expression was grim. 'He's been moved to a minimum-security facility pending trial. My contact says he's been receiving visitors. A woman. No ID on file, but she matches the description of someone seen near the courthouse the day Adrian was poisoned.'
'You think Marcus's visitor is the accomplice?'
'I think she's our best lead. And I think we need to talk to Marcus before the FBI does. Get information they can't access through official channels.' His eyes met hers. 'This won't be legal. If we're caught, we'll face charges. Are you willing to risk that?'
'To save my father? To end this nightmare? Yes.' No hesitation. 'What's the plan?'
Two hours later, they were outside the minimum-security facility, disguised as Marcus's lawyers. Fake IDs, borrowed suits, rehearsed story. Ryder's military contacts had provided everything they needed.
Marcus looked smaller than Isla remembered. Prison had diminished him, stripped away the authority he'd wielded as head of security. When he saw Isla, shame and fear warred on his face.
'I'm sorry,' he said immediately. 'For everything. Adrian paid me, threatened my family, I had no choice—'
'Who's the woman visiting you?' Ryder cut through the apologies. 'Blonde, mid-thirties, expensive clothes. She's been here three times in two weeks.'
Marcus paled. 'I don't know what you're—'
'Lying won't help you.' Isla leaned forward. 'My father's been arrested for Adrian's poisoning. Someone's setting him up, and we think your visitor is involved. Tell us who she is, and I'll put in a word with the prosecutors. Reduce your sentence. Help your family.'
The mention of family broke him. 'Sophia Thornton. Your cousin. Adrian's sister.'
The revelation hit like a physical blow. Sophia. Quiet, bookish Sophia who'd always been overshadowed by Adrian's charisma. Who'd attended family events with a smile that never quite reached her eyes. Who'd hugged Isla at Adrian's arrest and whispered, 'I'm so sorry this happened to you.'
'She's been helping Adrian from the beginning,' Marcus continued, words tumbling out. 'Funding his obsession. Providing inside information. She hated you, Isla. Blamed you for taking all the family attention, all the opportunities. Adrian loved you, but Sophia? She wanted you destroyed.'
'Where is she now?' Ryder's voice was deadly calm.
'I don't know. After Adrian's arrest, she disappeared. But she's planning something. She told me during her last visit—said Adrian failed but she wouldn't. That she'd finish what he started.' Marcus's eyes pleaded. 'Please, you have to protect your family. She's not stable. Never has been. Adrian was obsessed, but Sophia? She's pure hatred.'
They left the facility in silence, both processing the revelation. Sophia. Another family member. Another betrayal layered on top of betrayal.
'We need to warn your father. Tell the FBI.' Isla reached for her phone.
Ryder grabbed her wrist. 'No. Think about it. If we tell them we got this information from Marcus during an illegal visit using fake IDs, we're admitting to multiple felonies. Your father's lawyers can handle his case. We need to handle Sophia.'
'How? We don't even know where she is.'
'She'll come to us. She's been orchestrating everything to isolate you, destroy your support system. Your cousin in a coma. Your father in prison. Me next, probably.' His jaw tightened. 'She'll make her move soon. And when she does, we'll be ready.'
They drove back to the safe house in tense silence. Inside, Ryder immediately began setting up additional security—cameras, motion sensors, weapons positioned strategically throughout the space.
'I won't let her hurt you,' he said, checking his weapons with methodical precision. 'Whatever she's planning, whatever her endgame, she'll have to go through me first.'
'That's what I'm afraid of.' Isla watched him prep for war. 'You keep putting yourself between me and danger. One of these days, you won't be fast enough.'
'Then I'll die knowing I did everything possible to protect you.' He said it simply, like fact rather than tragedy.
'That's not romantic. That's terrifying.' She crossed to him, stopping his manic preparations. 'I don't want a dead hero. I want a living partner. Promise me you'll be careful. That you won't sacrifice yourself for some misguided sense of redemption.'
'I can't promise that.' His honesty was brutal. 'If it comes down to you or me, I choose you. Every time. That's not negotiable.'
Before she could argue, the power cut out. Complete darkness. Then emergency lights flickered on, bathing everything in red.
'She's here.' Ryder's voice was calm, controlled, deadly. He handed Isla a weapon. 'Stay behind me. Do exactly what I say. And Isla?' He kissed her once, hard and desperate. 'I love you. Remember that.'
CLIFFHANGER: Glass shattered in multiple rooms simultaneously. Smoke grenades hissed, filling the loft with choking fog. Through the haze, a woman's voice called out, sweet and poisonous: 'Hello, cousin. It's time we had a family reunion. Just us girls. Tell the soldier to stand down, or I start shooting.'