Page 48 of No Words
Subject moving to safe house on Prescott Ave. Team of four. Standard rotation.
Witness statement locations in filing cabinet, third drawer, red folders.
They’re moving her tomorrow. Route attached.
“Is that...?” Molly’s voice trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes what she’s seeing.
“Daniel Thornton. Lead agent on your protection detail.” I turn the screen toward her. “Every safe house location, every witness statement, every move you made. He sold it all.”
Her face goes white. “The leak Killian suspected.”
“Now we have proof.”
“He was feeding Alessio information about me? About the witnesses?” Molly’s voice holds more outrage than fear now. The prosecutor in her, infuriated by the perversion of justice.
“About everything.” I scroll through more messages, each one confirming what I already suspected. “Your case would never succeed. They knew every move before you made it.”
Outside, the sound of a pressure washer cuts through the morning quiet, removing bloodstains from the cabin’s exterior walls. The steady white noise forms a backdrop to Molly’s measured breathing as she processes this revelation.
“So you were right,” she says finally. “Everything was compromised from the start.”
I meet her gaze across the table. “This is why I went off-grid. Why I brought you here.”
She nods slowly, the final piece clicking into place for her. “And now? What happens now?”
I set the phone down and pull out my own secure satellite phone. “Now we make the evidence impossible to ignore. Killian has contacts in the media and a few clean agents who can’t be bought. I’m sending everything to them. This level of corruption can’t stay buried.”
As I work, Molly moves to the coffeemaker, the domestic normalcy of her actions a surreal contrast to the cleanup operation happening outside. The rich scent of brewing coffee mingles with the chemical smell drifting in through the windows, industrial cleaners designed to break down blood.
“Any chance of ever returning to prosecution is gone,” she states, not asking. Her back is to me, shoulders tight with tension.
“That bridge burned the moment I pulled you from that office,” I reply, continuing to compile the evidence. “This just confirms I made the right call.”
She flinches slightly but doesn’t look away. “So what happens to me? To us?”
“We disappear.” I finish the data transfer and set the phone aside. “I have contacts through Killian’s network. New identity, new location.”
“And the Borsellini family?”
“The evidence will still reach the right people. Your case files, combined with what we’ve discovered on Alessio’s phone. Giovanni Borsellini will go down, just not the way you originally planned.”
She nods, processing. She straightens her shoulders, meets my eyes directly. Her ability to adapt, to survive, to face brutal truths without flinching. It’s one of the many reasons I?—
I stop that thought before it can fully form.
Jayce enters without waiting for a response, his expression grim but satisfied. “All clear. Bodies are being handled. We’ve wiped all trace evidence from the grounds and structures.” His voice is clinical, professional. “Satellite shows no unusual activity within a ten-mile radius. I think we’re good.”
“How long until we’re completely clear?”
“Another hour, maybe two. Then we ghost.”
I nod. “Tell the team they did good work. I’ll handle the final arrangements from here.”
After Jayce leaves, silence falls between us, heavy with possibility. Molly sets her coffee down on the counter, her eyes never leaving mine.
“So this is it,” she sighs. “The end of our old lives.”
“Yes.”
