Page 60 of Off the Ice

“I have to share it all,” she said.

“What?” I blinked. “Share what all?”

She pulled a flash drive out of her pocket. Small. Silver. Dangerous.

“This has everything I used to build the story,” she said. “Evidence. Categorized. Clean. We could post it online.”

Darren froze.

My pulse kicked up again. “Wait, what?”

Darren let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it. If I don’t leave, if I don’t disappear, my family’s not safe. None of us are. If we post that, we’re fucked.”

I shook my head. “Fucked, maybe. But if something happens to us, it all leads back to them. That’s leverage.”

“No,” Darren said, standing fast enough to jolt the chair. “What’s bullshit is pretending like I have any control here. These people don’t play fair. They won’t wait around for us to make our move.”

I didn’t say anything. Just stared at the wreckage. At the torn couch. The slashed cushions. The goddamn scratches on the walls like this was some mob movie.

I exhaled slowly. “I don’t see another choice.”

That landed hard.

Ava crossed her arms. “This is our choice.”

Darren and I both looked at her.

She met my gaze, unwavering. “If they’re using secrets to control him, we take away their leverage. We go public. All of it.”

She took a step forward, fire in her eyes now. “No more protecting reputations. No more safe moves. If we expose it all, there’s no room for them to hide. And no one’s going to cover their asses if the entire world’s watching.”

My jaw tightened. It was dangerous. Reckless.

And she was right.

Darren rubbed his temples. “You really think that’ll work?”

“It’s the best shot we’ve got,” she said.

I nodded. “I’m in.”

Darren looked between us, something breaking loose behind his eyes. Fear. Resignation. Maybe resolve. Finally, he gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said, voice low. “Let’s do it.”

And then my phone rang.

The sound sliced through the moment like a blade.

I pulled it from my pocket, and everything in me stilled.

Andrew McKay.

My stomach bottomed out.

McKay didn’t call like this. He scheduled. He emailed. Texted. Ran his life like a spreadsheet.

A call this late? No heads-up?

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