Ethan stared at the satellite imagery of the estate, memories flooding back uninvited.Sixteen years old, walking into the study. Rebecca going through his father's safe. Her turning with knife already in hand like she'd been expecting him. The fight that followed—desperate, vicious, ending with Ethan's shoulder opened and Rebecca disappearing into the night.The same estate where his mother had died when he was twelve, wasting away from cancer in the east wing bedroom while his father worked and Rebecca watched from shadows wearing her sister's face.Every room held ghosts. Every hallway whispered accusations. The place was psychological warfare made architecture.Which was exactly why Rebecca had chosen it.The convoy assembled—six vehicles, forty operatives, enough weapons to outfit small army. They moved out in tactical formation, leaving the city behind for countryside that grew darker with each mile.Ethan sat in the command vehicle's passenger seat, watching the estate approach

Ethan was already at Lily's side, fingers working the chains' locks with speed that came from knowing every second counted."I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."His hands shook despite every intention to stay controlled. The chains released with clicks that sounded like salvation. Lily collapsed into his arms, and he caught her, held her, felt her heart hammering against his chest in rhythm that meant alive, alive, still alive."Ethan—" Her voice was raw. "Behind you—"He turned.Rebecca was rising. Slower than should be possible with head injury, but rising anyway because hatred was fuel that burned hotter than pain.The knife was back in her hand.She lunged with last reserves of strength powered by thirty years of rage compressed into single moment of violence.Ethan moved to shield Lily, knowing he wouldn't be fast enough, knowing this was how it ended—saving her by dying first.The gunshot was deafening in enclosed space.Rebecca's forward momentum stopped like she'd hit in

Harrison's voice came through immediately. "Sir, you're alive—""Thirty seconds. Disable helicopter. Non-lethal if possible." He hung up, looked at Lily. "Get us to service entrance. Back way up."She navigated through streets with precision that suggested she'd memorized this route during her company's brief partnership discussions. The SUV screeched into parking garage, and they were moving—Ethan supporting Marcus who'd regained enough consciousness to walk with help, Ryan following like lost puppy who'd finally found pack.Service elevator. Security codes still worked because Victoria didn't know about emergency backup systems. Seventy floors passed in mechanical hum that felt too slow.The rooftop access door opened to wind and helicopter noise and Victoria Blackwell climbing into passenger seat with briefcase handcuffed to her wrist.She saw them. Her face transformed from confidence to shock to fury compressed into single expression.The pilot was already lifting off, rotors scr

Ethan moved closer, leaned down so only she could hear his response."So do I. We all have friends. And mine are way scarier."Victoria's smile faltered fractionally. "We'll see."They took her away under FBI escort, handcuffed to the stretcher, still smiling like she knew something no one else did.The rooftop finally went quiet except for wind and distant sirens and Lily's breathing behind him that meant alive, alive, still alive.Ethan turned, and she collapsed into his arms with weight that suggested every ounce of strength she'd been using to stay upright had just run out simultaneously."Is it..." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "Is it really...""Over. It's over." He held her like she might disappear if he loosened his grip. "You're safe. We're safe. It's finally over."Below them, Marcus was being loaded into ambulance by paramedics who worked with urgency that suggested stable wasn't the same as safe. Harrison stood beside the gurney, coordinating with medical team,

Marcus filled the silence with words that felt like detonating bomb. "Facial recognition can't confirm because of the angle. But gait analysis, body measurements, the way he moves—" He paused. "Sir, that's Victor Cross. Your father.""My father's dead." Ethan's voice was automatic, rote, something he'd been saying for so long it had become reflex. "Fifteen years ago. Plane crash. No survivors.""That's what the records say." Marcus pulled up more files—old investigation reports, crash site analysis, death certificate that looked official except for small details that didn't quite match. "But I've been digging since Rebecca's revelation. Following money trails. And sir... I think he faked it."Lily's voice cut through Ethan's spiral. "Why would your father fake his death?""Because he blamed me." The answer came out hollow, carrying pain that fifteen years hadn't managed to bury. "For Catherine's death. For not being able to save her. For being the reason Rebecca targeted her in the fi