Page 46 of Pursuit of Her

Reagan's hands paused momentarily. "He's already dying, Eve."

"That's not your decision to make."

"No." Reagan finally looked up, her expression hardened by years of solitary justice. "It's his victims' decision. I'm merely the instrument."

Eve holstered her weapon. "There's another way."

"We've had this conversation before."

"And circumstances have changed." Eve gestured to the equipment. "This evidence—the trafficking victims, the bribes, the connections to Brooks—is enough to destroy them publicly. Their power comes from reputation and influence. Expose them, and they're finished."

"Until their connections bury it again," Reagan countered. "The next news cycle, the next political crisis, the next distraction. The system protects them."

"Not this time." Eve withdrew a small drive from her clutch. "This contains everything I've gathered: financial records, witness statements, connections to all four previous victims. I've already sent copies to federal authorities outside Brooks's influence. Tonight isn't just about Fairchild. It's about the entire network."

Reagan studied her, calculation visible in the subtle shift of her expression.

"And Brooks?"

"Her husband goes down, she falls with him." Eve stepped closer, her voice dropping. "But they face justice through exposure and prosecution, not execution."

Something flickered across Reagan's face—consideration, perhaps even relief. For ten years, she'd carried this burden alone, delivering justice through blood because she'd seen no alternative.

"The evidence plays in seven minutes," Reagansaid finally, indicating the screens. "Every display in the ballroom, every phone, every computer in the building. Fairchild's crimes exposed during his own speech."

Eve nodded. "I have Foster positioned to ensure it can't be interrupted."

"And after?"

"North pier extraction, as planned." Eve maintained eye contact, understanding passing between them. "But you don't need to kill him. The evidence will destroy him more completely than a bullet ever could."

Lightning flashed again, thunder following almost immediately. Reagan turned back to her equipment, making final adjustments. Her silence wasn't agreement, but it wasn't refusal either.

Eve's earpiece vibrated with Foster's signal: Martinez on the move, searching the upper floors with a security team.

"We have a problem," Eve said. "Martinez is checking restricted areas. ETA three minutes to this position."

Reagan didn't look up. "The evidence needs five minutes to fully upload."

"I'll buy you time." Eve moved toward the door, pausing before opening it. "Reagan."

"I know." Reagan's voice softened briefly. "Be careful."

Eve slipped into the hallway, already formulating her distraction. She secured the door behind her and hurried toward the service stairs, her bare feet silent against concrete steps as she descended toward the main floor.

Her earpiece activated again: "Captain, Martinez has security moving to eighteenth floor. Northwestern corner."

Eve pressed the emergency alarm near the sixteenth floor landing. Immediately, sirens wailed throughout the stairwell, and automatic protocols would direct security to investigate the alarm rather than continue their sweep.

She exited on the fifteenth floor, taking a service elevator back to the main ballroom. As she emerged, she spotted Commissioner Brooks speaking urgently into her communication device, clearly responding to the security alert.

Inside, Fairchild had begun his speech, his voice carrying across the gathered crowd with easeful authority as he discussed charitable initiatives that masked his trafficking operations.

Eve moved to her position near the eastern windows, her gaze shifting between the Senator, the screens positioned throughout the ballroom, and the security team regrouping near the main entrance.

Foster's confirmation came through her earpiece: "Evidence upload complete. Sixty seconds to broadcast."

Eve tapped her earpiece once—acknowledgment received.

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