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Ian studied him for a long moment. “You’ve carried her through fire already.” His voice lowered, controlled. “Now you carry her through this.”
Reid swallowed, emotions raw. “Her mother never asked.”
Ian’s eyes sharpened with a steel-blue glint, but his reply was quiet, almost fatherly. “That’s why you’re here. That’s why I’m here. We won’t let her face this alone.”
Reid’s breath stilled as he held Ian’s gaze. There was nothing else to say.
Ian stood then, straightening his cuffs like sliding armor into place. “Stay with her. I’m going to try to gain some control of the craziness. There will likely be more.”
He left the room, and for a moment, Reid sat in silence, command and love both pressing against his ribs.
FRONT STEPS – 2134 HOURS
The lights were sharp, but the cameras were sharper. The building was ringed in steel. Bravo Team operators in plain clothes stood like shadows inside the crowd line. The press roared, microphones lunging forward like spears.
Ian Chase stepped to the podium, the Chase crest behind him, Kieran flanking one shoulder, the full executive board in aline of stone at his back. He’d made sure they were there because today Chase International would not fracture.
Ian adjusted the mic once, his expression unreadable. The noise dimmed, reporters’ hunger buzzing in the air.
“My name is Ian Chase. I’m president of Chase International, the parent company of Chase Security.” His tone carried like command fire. “This morning, a civilian under our protection was targeted in an attempted assassination on the campus of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. That civilian is Dr. Claire Bowman—professor, analyst, and daughter of Senator Heather Bowman.”
The crowd rippled, shutters exploding.
Ian’s voice cut through, “She remains in critical condition. She is under the care of the finest trauma team in this state. She is not a criminal. She is not a pawn. And she will not be surrendered to federal custody while under my protection.”
Gasps. Shouts. Questions rising. Ian silenced them with a glance.
“Chase International exists because governments and their enemies alike sometimes forget who they serve. Today, that line is not blurred. It is bright. A sniper fired on a woman who carried no weapon, had no clearance, and had no agenda other than revealing the truth of what she saw.”
Behind him, Kieran stood rigid, Zach Wentworth’s jaw set like stone, and Killian’s eyes locked on the crowd like a hawk’s.
Ian leaned in, hammering the crowd. “If you think we will bow to fear or politics, you are mistaken. Claire Bowman will heal here. She will speak for herself, and when she does, we will be listening.”
The crowd erupted with questions, shouts, and accusations, but Ian stepped back, controlled and untouchable. The board held behind him, immovable as stone. The optics had shifted. This was no longer Heather Bowman’s narrative. It was his.
From the glassed-inoverlook above the front steps, Reid stood with his hands braced on the rail, watching Ian Chase hold the world at bay. The spotlight hit the podium just enough to throw sharp edges across Ian’s face, the kind of light that made him look like what he was: unyielding and immovable.
The reporters pressed closer, a frenzy of questions, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t stutter. He stood there with the full board behind him, with Kieran like an iron shadow at his side, bending the chaos to his will.
The knot in Reid’s chest twisted tighter. Claire had nearly bled out this afternoon, and now the man she trusted put her name in front of every camera in America. And yet, watching him, watching the way the crowd moved under Ian’s voice, Reid felt something else too.
This was the reason Chase held men together when governments failed. This was what it looked like when someone refused to blink.
For the first time all day, Reid felt the smallest shred of relief. She wasn’t alone in this fight, not as long as Ian stood at that podium.
The crowd surged, the cameras burned hot, and Ian didn’t give an inch.
HEATHER BOWMAN’S HOME – 2200 HOURS
Heather was on fire. “Do you see what he’s doing? He just put her name in front of every outlet in the country. You told me this would never escalate into the public.”
Vos’s lips curled into a smile as he stared into the camera. He didn’t move. The feed of Ian’s press conference was still reflected in his eyes. His voice was calm and almost entertained. “I told you she was dangerous,” he said softly. “And now the whole world knows her name, thanks to him.”
“You don’t get it,” Heather hissed. “He’s taking her out of my hands. I can’t protect her if?—”
Vos cut her off, “You were never protecting her. You were protecting yourself.” He leaned closer to the screen. “And now you’ve lost both.”
Heather’s breath caught, her rage sharpening into silence.
