Page 37 of The Foreman
Shadows rippled at the far end of the depot, shapes peeling out of the dark like predators from a den. First three, then five, then more, until the space swarmed with figures. Some wore tailored suits, others moved in tactical black, their presence a mix of boardroom and battlefield menace. At their center strode Senator Patricia Haines, her smile cutting through the gloom like broken glass, cold and cruel.
“Macy Dane,” Haines purred, her voice dripping contempt. “You’ve scurried far for a pawn, but pawns break easily. Look at you, thinking you matter. All you’ve done is dirty the floor while people like me build empires. You’ve made quite a mess, and now I’ll enjoy watching you bleed trying to clean it up.”
Macy folded her arms, cocking her head with a defiant tilt. “You mean I didn’t roll over and die like you scripted in your little empire playbook? Sorry to ruin your plans... well, actually I'm not. I've rather enjoyed watching you and your little dogs chase your tails. You should have known I’m a terrible actress when the part calls for a victim.”
Haines’s eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. “Do you want to know the truth, Macy? We wrote your role for you. Chet was already marked the moment he got greedy. We framed you so cleanly the world will believe he was the saint and you the traitor. Every falsified badge log, every planted drive, every fabricated email—it was all us. We made you the perfect scapegoat. And the beauty of it? The more you fight, the guiltier you look.”
Macy’s laugh cut through the depot, sharp as broken glass. “Congratulations, Senator. You just admitted to conspiracy, murder, and treason. You always this stupid, or is tonight special?”
"You won't live long enough to go to the authorities and tell them anything. Even if you did, the only evidence is the evidence we manufactured and put in place."
A ripple of anger surged through the suits, sharp enough to shift the air in the depot. Shoulders tightened, hands twitched toward weapons, their façade of control fracturing. Perfect. They were rattled, and rattled men made mistakes.
Trace’s comm crackled in his ear, Jesse’s whisper low and urgent, tight with adrenaline. “We’ve got the feed. Keep her talking. Every second she stalls them, we nail down another piece of evidence.”
Trace’s heart pounded as he watched the woman he loved stand toe to toe with predators, fire in her stance and defiance in her voice. Every instinct screamed at him to charge forward, to shield her with his body and drag her out of the kill zone. His grip on the Glock tightened, his jaw locked hard enough to ache, but he forced himself still. He held steady. He trusted her.
Macy grinned, tossing her hair back. “Y'all keep underestimating me. It’s almost insulting.”
Haines’s smile slipped, venom sharpening her tone. “You think this little stunt will save you? You’re a spark in a pile of wet leaves, nothing more. I’ll snuff you out and no one will even remember your name.”
“Careful,” Macy shot back. “Even the smallest spark can start a wildfire that will burn down all you think you've built.”
The fixer reached into his coat. Trace’s vision narrowed, the edges of the depot blurring until all he saw was that hand moving. His body locked down, muscles coiled, breath frozen in his lungs, the world shrinking to the beat of his pulse and the inevitability of violence about to break loose.
“Now,” Jesse’s voice snapped.
The rafters erupted with a thunderous crack of gunfire, splinters raining down as muzzle flashes lit the cavernous dark. Hawke’s rounds struck true, knocking weapons from hands before triggers were pulled. Reed burst from the shadows, rifle sweeping in a lethal arc, his movements all ruthless efficiency.Trace lunged forward, a predator unleashed, Glock up and steady, heart pounding with violent purpose as he closed the distance to Macy through the storm of chaos.
Suits dove for cover, mercenaries shouted, bullets screamed off rusted beams in a frenzy of sparks and shrieking metal. The air thickened with cordite and the ragged edge of shouted orders. Through it all, Macy held her ground with a ferocity that twisted Trace’s gut. She ducked low only when he barked for her to move, rolling behind the support beam just as he closed the distance, his pulse hammering as the storm of violence closed in around them.
Trace advanced through the chaos, every step driving him closer to Macy with lethal intent.
“You okay?” he demanded as he reached her.
Her grin was feral, untamed. “Better than okay. We’ve got them... didn't we?”
Jesse's laugh came over the comms. "That we did. Way to go Macy. You did good."
He almost kissed her right there in the middle of the firefight. Instead, he lifted his Glock and squeezed off two precise rounds, each one slamming into an approaching merc’s shoulder and spinning them off balance. Both men dropped hard, weapons clattering across the concrete.
The firefight tore through the depot, flashes of gunfire strobing the rafters, but the jaws of the trap held firm. Every venom-laced word, every threat, every damning line Haines spat into the chaos was already locked onto Jesse’s feed, immortalized in crisp audio while bullets chewed the walls and danger pressed in from every side.
Victory bled with consequence. As Haines was hauled away in restraints, her voice sliced through the din, jagged and venomous, a final wound meant to linger.“This isn’t over! You don’t know who else is coming for you.”
"Not to worry," said Jesse. "Feds are inbound. Tell the senator they're looking forward to speaking with her... she's the one who led the charge to slash their budget and interfere with their investigations."
That was all well and good, but the senator's threat had rung true and echoed in Trace’s ears long after the gunfire faded.
Later, when the dust settled and the feds arrived on scene, the senator was secured along with the evidence. Trace and Macy sat in the back of the SUV as it rumbled away from the depot. As they pulled away, the team was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.
Macy leaned against him, fingers laced tight with his. Bruises marked her skin and exhaustion dragged at her frame, yet defiance still burned in her eyes and her presence radiated heat like an unquenchable flame.
“You trusted me tonight,” she said softly.
Trace kissed the top of her head. “You earned it.”
She tilted her face up, her eyes fierce even in exhaustion. “So what now?”
