Page 83 of Web of Lies
"I tried to stop her," Kyle adds, but Hunt lets out a short, dry laugh.
"I'm sure you did," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "If I didn't know your parents and hadn't seen your work firsthand, maybe I'd believe you. But you?" He points a finger toward Kyle, his mouth twitching into something between a smile and a sneer. "You're the perfect mix of your mother and father."
Kyle leans back on the sofa, lips curling into a grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."
My eyes widen in horror, and my head whips toward Kyle. What the hell is he doing? Hunt's already on edge, and his patience is thin. And all Kyle can do is crack jokes? I squeeze his hand, drawing his attention to me, and throw him a pleading look.
To my surprise, though, Hunt doesn't react. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet, grabs a clean glass, and walks to the liquor shelf. He pours himself a drink of amber liquid, then turns back to us, pointing his glass toward Kyle. "Now that you've found him, why are you telling me all of this?"
"The one who sent me decided I failed," I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "Now they want me gone."
"Who?" Hunt's brows shoot up.
"Jackson Philips."
Hunt pauses mid-sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink on the table. "If that's the case, a phone call won't fix this." He shakes his head. "I've got connections in politics, but Philips is running a department I'm not even supposed to know exists." Before I can respond, he adds, "Have they already made a move?"
I glance at Kyle, silently begging him to take it from here. His grip on my hand is tightening. "He hired Chloé to kidnap Riley," Kyle says. "But I got her out."
"That little snake. Now I know why she kept coming back." He curses under his breath. His jaw flexes; the words are nearly a growl. He straightens, lifting his chin, the irritation in his tone fading. "Alright. What's your plan now?"
"I'll put together a file that exposes Jackson's department and its criminal actions, such as embezzling government funds, money laundering, and hidden ties with city officials."
Hunt tilts his head. "And what about Jackson himself? Exposing him won't be enough. Men like him always find a way to escape and reinvent themselves."
"We kill him," I say. "I'll meet him on the premise that I have the identity of the Butcher. While he's occupied, the file will go live."
The room goes still. Hunt doesn't move, doesn't blink, just studies me. "Riley," he says slowly, disbelief heavy in his voice. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." I nod and push myself to my feet.
Hunt hums, his eyes shifting between Kyle and me. "Is there any way I can help?"
"We need a secure location to meet with Jackson. Somewhere hard to ambush." Kyle says, drawing our attention to him.
Hunt's gaze lingers on Kyle, and he offers him a slow nod. "I think I know just the place. I'll have Hannah send you the address."
"Thank you." My lips pull into a small, weak smile. "And… I'm sorry, boss." I lower my head, shame crawling up my spine like ice.
"Riley, sweetheart," Hunt says with a sigh, his voice softer now. "In my forty-five years, I've dealt with far worse rats than you. Am I happy about it? No. But when I brought you in, you were just a kid trying to survive." His eyes soften, the usual sharp edge in them dulling. "And you've done your job well. Better than most would have. You even admitted it yourself. If anything," he pauses, his lips curving into something that resembles a smile, "I'm impressed that you kept this secret from me for so long."
Relief washes over me, and my shoulders sink as if I’ve finally been allowed to put down a weight I’ve carried for too long. I still have my place here. I haven't been cast out.
My body moves before my mind can catch up. One second I'm still sitting next to Kyle, gripping his hand for support; the next, I'm on my feet, closing the distance between me and Mr. Hunt, and wrapping my arms around him.
The man freezes, every muscle tense, in my embrace. Then, slowly and almost reluctantly, one of his hands meets my back with an awkward pat.
Eventually, I pull away from him, and Hunt clears his throat, running his hand over his front to smooth his suit. I turn around to find Kyle's gaze locked on me. His eyes are narrowed, and there is a hint of anger flashing in them. But I still let a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth.
Because, for the first time in what feels like forever, it seems like things are actually shifting in the right direction.
Kyle's living room is back to looking like a war zone. Papers, cables, and half-empty coffee mugs cover every surface. As soon as we got back from Hunt's office, I threw myself into the work. No breaks, no distractions.
Through a secure network, I regained access to my old account and recovered everything I'd ever saved on Jackson and the department. I gathered all key data that proves the illegal actions of the people in charge and added it to the pile of evidence I've been building: documents proving the corruption of city officials, the cover-ups, and the funding lines.
Now, all that's left is to organize everything into one clear, complete report; schedule the upload; and create the countdown for when it goes live. Then, contact Jackson and set up a meeting.
After working on it all day, I'm finally close to the end. My body aches, my eyes sting, but I don't stop. Not until it's perfect. With my chin resting on my knee, I drag the last file into place, and the puzzle is complete. I scroll through the pages one last time, checking the layout, making sure every link is solid, every screenshot backed up twice.
