Page 38 of The Foreman
He exhaled. “Now we brace for the fallout. She wasn’t lying. Someone bigger is pulling strings.”
Macy squeezed his hand. “Then we find them and put an end to it.”
He pulled her closer, heart pounding with equal parts fear and pride. She was his. The woman he loved. The one he would protect with everything he had, even if she hated him for it.
And as the SUV carried them into the uncertain night, Trace felt the weight of what lay ahead settle deep in his chest. The battle at the depot was only the opening volley, and he knew withbrutal clarity that the true war, the one that would test every bond and demand blood, had only just begun.
12
MACY
The SUV’s rumble beneath her felt more like a heartbeat than an engine. Macy snuggled against Trace's side, his arm wrapped protectively around her. She watched as the countryside blurred past in ribbons of neon and shadow.
Trace sat beside her, silent and rigid, hugging her close. The memory of Haines’s venom still hung over her like a shroud, as heavy as the gun smoke that had lingered in the depot long after the gunfire had stopped. Macy let her lips curve into a faint smile. She had stood toe to toe with monsters and walked away. For the first time since this nightmare began, she felt less like prey and more like hunter.
She wasn't sure what would come next, but she knew the fight wasn't over. The arrest of the senator and the evidence she had supplied would clear her name, but someone was pulling the senator's strings. It was the puppet master they wanted, not the puppet.
The Iron Spur’s underground garage swallowed them in muted light, steel doors sealing shut behind the convoy. As the engines died, silence pressed in, broken only by the tick of cooling metal. Reed was first out, weapon still in hand as he scanned the shadows. Hawke followed, muttering about tequila and trigger discipline in the same breath. Gavin’s voice carried from the lead SUV, already barking orders to secure the perimeter and prep the feeds. The whole team moved with purpose, but Macy felt Trace’s focus on her alone, the weight of it almost heavier than the rifle slung across his back.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, low and firm, thumb brushing the scrape at her temple.
“It’s just a scratch,” she countered, arching a brow. “You should see the other guys.”
He didn’t smile. He simply pulled her closer, his mouth a whisper against her ear. “Stay alert. Tonight isn’t over.”
Her pulse quickened, not just from his words but from the promise woven in his tone. He wasn’t coddling her, not anymore. He was warning her like he would any of the men, and that meant he finally saw her as part of the fight.
Hours later, the war room pulsed with light and noise. Screens streamed data, encrypted feeds flickered with evidence, and the Silver Spur team carved through layers of Meridian’s shell corporations with ruthless precision. Every falsified log, every wire transfer, every buried email would be dragged into daylightby Jesse’s steady hands and a team of techs who didn’t blink at the weight of treason.
Macy sat at the center table, laptop open, her fingers flying across the keys as she steered them through Nexus’s back channels. The systems were as familiar to her as old scars, every quirk and blind spot etched into memory from three years of navigating them. Tonight she used that hard-earned knowledge not to keep her head above water, but to strike back and win.
Trace hovered behind her, his presence a wall of heat and focus. She felt his gaze track every move she made, not with doubt but with fierce protectiveness that vibrated through the air between them. She could sense every instinct in Trace urging him to pull her out of the storm, but she also felt his restraint. He let her keep her place at the table, and in that choice she knew he recognized her role as vital to the team.
“Got something,” she announced, pulling up a ledger marked with Meridian’s seal. Her heart hammered as the numbers unfolded across the screen—millions funneled, contracts diverted, signatures forged. “This ties the Senator and Meridian’s CEO, Dorian Kells, together. He isn’t just complicit—he’s orchestrating the whole thing. It’s the nail in their coffin.”
Reed gave a low whistle. “That’s enough to bury them deep.”
“Question is,” Hawke said, arms crossed, “do we bury them quietly, or do we light them up in public?”
Macy’s lips curved into a sharp grin. “Why not both?”
The meeting was staged at a Meridian-controlled high-rise, its glass walls gleaming like teeth. The trap had been laid with quiet precision: a conference room infiltrated earlier by a Silver Spur tech posing as building maintenance, the space now wired andtransmitting on secure frequencies Jesse had synced to federal servers. Silver Spur’s team waited in the wings, feeds live and watching. All that remained was the bait.
Once again, that would be her.
Macy noticed the way Trace adjusted the strap of his rifle and glowered at her outfit. She grinned, knowing the sleek black blouse and tailored pants looked professional enough for a corporate negotiation. She felt the way his stare made her aware of how exposed she seemed beneath the role.
“You hate it,” she said, grinning at his scowl.
“I hate that you’re walking in there without armor.” His voice was a growl. “You should be wrapped in Kevlar.”
She tugged at the protective vest hidden beneath the blouse and winked. “If you had your way I'd be wrapped in Kevlar and bubble-wrapped. Besides, who says I'm not?”
Trace’s jaw ticked. He bent close, lips brushing her temple, voice raw. “I swear, Macy, if anything happens to you...”
She cut him off with a kiss, quick and fierce. “Then you can spank the hell out of me. But, when I pull this off, I expect a reward.”
"What kind of reward?" he asked suspiciously.
