Page 110 of Blind Justice

Ruth wanted to believe it too, but… “Dad didn’t come back.” She heard Sophie sniffle.

The thought of Noah out there, chasing down Fairchild, diving headfirst into danger while she was stuck in this chair, too weak to even stand on her own—it was unbearable. She turned her head slightly. “How long will this take?”

Paul checked the line. “A couple of hours. We’ll monitor your vitals and make sure you tolerate the transfusion well. You’ll probably feel warmer, maybe a little lightheaded, but after a few days, you should start feeling stronger.”

A few days.

Noah didn’t have days.

Neither did she. She clenched her jaw, breathing through the frustration clawing at her ribs. “I just want to see him again.”

“You will,” Sophie whispered.

Ruth squeezed her eyes shut. And prayed that was true.

Forty

7:45 AM – The War Room

The FBI’s resident agency in Pierre was buzzing with a quiet, calculated energy. Maps of the city were tacked up on the walls, bullet points marking key targets. Warrant packets were stacked neatly on the conference table, bearing the names of judges, politicians, law enforcement officials, and federal agents who had spent years under Fairchild’s thumb.

Noah stood with his arms crossed, eyes locked on the operational layout. The room smelled of stale coffee and tension, the kind that settled in your bones before something irreversible happened.

Alex, standing to his right, let out a slow breath. “You sure about this?”

Noah didn’t even blink. “We don’t have a choice. This doesn’t stop until we end it.”

Brad Killian stepped into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was flanked by Evan Shipley, the deputy U.S. attorney who had been part of South Dakota’s system long enough to know which way the wind was blowing.

Brad’s voice was even but laced with steel. “Everyone knows their assignments. We go in simultaneously. No leaks. No screw-ups. No mercy.”

Evan Shipley tapped the file in his hand. “The state’s attorney is going to be our biggest fish. Taking him down is going to send a shockwave through the entire system.”

Alex smirked. “Good. Let them know no one is untouchable.”

Noah turned toward the team. “Fairchild is mine.” His voice was flat, final.

Brad nodded. “Alex is going with you. FBI tactical will be staged two blocks out, ready to move in. We have a ten-minute window before his security team figures out what’s happening and tries to extract him.”

Alex rolled his shoulders. “Let’s go get this bastard.”

* * *

9:00 AM – Fairchild’s Private Estate, North Pierre

Fairchild’s mansion loomed over the landscape like a fortress, a sprawling estate tucked behind wrought-iron gates and reinforced security checkpoints. His money had bought silence, protection, and an entire network of criminals in suits.

Today, all of that ended.

Noah adjusted his vest, his heart beating in an even rhythm. He and Alex sat in an unmarked vehicle across the street, watching as Fairchild’s personal security detail changed shifts.

“That’s our window,” Alex murmured, checking his watch.

Noah nodded. “Let’s move.”

They exited the vehicle, moving swiftly but calmly toward the main gate. They were expected—Fairchild believed Luke Andrews had them in his pocket.

A guard stepped forward, his hand resting near his holster. “You guys are early.”

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