Page 56 of Anchor
“Even if it breaks protocol?”
Ian’s answer was low and final. “Especially if it does.” He straightened, eyes cutting through the tension like steel. “Someone sent a sniper to silence an unarmed civilian with no clearance, no weapon, and no standing target profile. That makes her the most dangerous person in this equation because I believe she saw something in the Emberline mission and again the night of the gala. Whoever set those anomalies in motion can’t afford for her to live long enough to explain what she saw.”
The feed looped again. Reid’s voice was hoarse through the comms:Stay with me, Claire. Stay with me.
Ian didn’t look away.
NINETEEN
Heather Bowman didn’t knock. She didn’t pause. She tore through the tent flaps with a State Department attaché two steps behind her, heels hitting the plywood floor like gunshots. The air inside shifted instantly, every operator aware of her presence.
Ian Chase stood at the center table, lit by the glow of monitors still looping body-cam and camera footage from the day. He didn’t turn right away.
Heather’s voice cut through the room. “This is a disaster. Media already has the story, half the campus is locked down, and Chase International is being painted as an occupying force on U.S. soil.”
Ian pivoted slowly, gaze steady, calm in the storm. “Your daughter was shot today.”
Heather’s jaw flexed. “And the optics are catastrophic.”
Ian took a step closer. “Is that what matters here? Optics?”
“She was ambushed by the press, nearly taken into NSA custody, and now the world thinks my family is at the center of a scandal. If this spirals, I lose control of the Armed Services Committee narrative. That cannot happen.”
Ian’s gaze didn’t waver. “So, tell me, Heather, is sending her to jail your answer?”
Her nostrils flared. “If that’s what keeps this contained—yes.”
The operators around them stilled. Killian shifted his weight, but Ian raised one hand, keeping him back. He stepped closer to Heather, his tone like ground glass under pressure.
“You’re not protecting her. You’re protecting yourself. Claire isn’t a scandal. She isn’t a liability. She’s a target. And if you keep playing games with jurisdiction and headlines, you’ll hand her straight to the people who want her dead.”
For the first time, Heather faltered—just a flash in her eyes. Then the steel snapped back. “She was never supposed to be in this.”
“She is now,” Ian said.
Silence burned between them, hot as a fuse.
Heather turned sharply, her attaché scrambling to follow. Her parting words were cold, precise, and meant to cut. “You’re making a mistake.”
Ian watched her leave, voice low, controlled, and lethal in its certainty. “Not the first, but maybe the first one worth it.”
Heather’s shadow clung to the space, her words still ringing like steel scraping against steel.
Killian leaned one hand on the table. “She’ll go straight to the committee. And if she spins it, we’re all holding the bag.”
Noah didn’t look up from the feed he was scrubbing, jaw tight. “She didn’t even ask about her daughter.”
Ian stood, eyes locked on the body-cam freeze-frame of Claire pale and bleeding, Reid’s hand clamped to hers. “She won’t bury her own blood without losing something first.”
Before Killian could reply, the tent flap shifted again. Two men in gray suits entered, not bothering to hide the federal credentials flashing from their belts. NSA.
The taller one spoke first, brisk and official. “Ian Chase. Effective immediately, Claire Bowman is in violation of federal statute regarding classified data disclosures. She is to be remanded into NSA custody for debrief.”
The room tensed. Killian shifted. Noah straightened, his hand still hovering near the console.
Ian didn’t move. He met the agent’s gaze without blinking. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
