“Fair.” Nikolai stands, buttoning his suit jacket.
I take Iris’s elbow, guiding her toward the door. Dmitri moves to her other side. Erik holds position at the rear, his hand resting casually near his concealed holster.
The marshals part reluctantly.
We step into the hallway, and the atmosphere shifts immediately. Federal agents line both walls, weapons visible but not drawn. Their gazes track our movement like predators watching prey that might still bolt.
“Easy,” I murmur to Iris.
Her shoulder trembles beneath my palm, but she keeps her chin high. Pride swells in my chest—my brilliant, reckless woman facing down the government without flinching.
The elevator ride stretches into eternity. Nikolai checks his phone, face impassive. Dmitri watches the floor indicator. Erik’s reflection in the polished doors shows pure tactical readiness.
Iris’s breathing accelerates.
“Look at me.” I turn her face toward mine, blocking out everything else. “We’re walking out. Together.”
Her pupils dilate, but she nods.
The elevator chimes. Lobby level.
The doors open onto a sea of federal agents. At least thirty crowd the marble space, positioned at every exit, near every pillar. Their attention swivels toward us in unison.
“Fuck,” Dmitri breathes.
“Keep moving,” Nikolai orders quietly.
We step forward. The crowd doesn’t part this time. They close in, a slow constriction of bodies and badges and barely concealed hostility.
The crowd holds formation until we reach the glass doors. Then, like magic, they step aside.
We pour into the cold November air. Our SUV idles at the curb—Erik’s doing, always three steps ahead. Dmitri reaches it first, checking the vehicle with practiced efficiency before nodding clearance.
Iris climbs in, finally allowing the tremor in her hands to show. I slide beside her while Nikolai takes the passenger seat. Erik guns the engine the moment the doors close.
No one speaks until we’re three blocks away.
“They’re terrified.” Nikolai breaks the silence, turning to face us. “Did you catch Walsh’s tells when Iris mentioned the financial records?”
“Left eye twitch,” Dmitri confirms. “Classic stress response.”
“Hawkins too.” I pull up my phone and write down notes I’d mentally catalogued. “When she referenced unauthorizedoperations, his jaw clenched three times. Means he’s grinding his teeth.”
“They don’t know what we have versus what we’re bluffing about.” Nikolai’s smile turns predatory. “Which means their exposure is broader than they’re admitting.”
“We can use that.” I lean forward, pulse quickening with possibilities. “When we deliver the first segment, we include enough detail to prove depth of knowledge without revealing the full scope. Keep them guessing about what comes next.”
“Force them to negotiate in good faith,” Dmitri agrees. “Because they can’t risk us releasing something they haven’t prepared damage control for.”
Iris shifts beside me. “Walsh kept glancing at Hawkins when Kendall spoke. Power structure isn’t what it appears.”
“Military oversight.” Nikolai nods slowly. “Hawkins likely controls operational decisions while Kendall handles political theater.”
“Which makes him the real target.” I type rapidly. “We negotiate with Kendall publicly, but the pressure goes on Hawkins privately.”
“Divide and conquer.” Dmitri pulls out his own phone. “I’ll have our people start building profiles. Financial vulnerabilities, family connections, career ambitions.”
“Leverage points.” Nikolai’s voice carries satisfaction. “By the time we deliver segment two, we’ll know which pressure points yield fastest results.”