Ch.36: The Phone Call

I stood in the elevator, watching the numbers climb. 50. 60. 70.

The Penthouse level. Sterling's private sanctuary.

My burner phone buzzed. A text from Kael.

**Mia's phone is active. She's in the north wing. Sterling is in the library.**

I took a breath. I had to time this perfectly.

I dialed the number Kael had given me. The "hostage" line. The number Sterling had used to taunt me when he first took her.

It rang. Once. Twice.

"Harper?"

It was Mia. Her voice was trembling, thick with tears.

"Mia," I said, injecting panic into my voice. "Are you okay? I'm coming for you."

"No!" she sobbed. "Don't come! He'll kill you! He's crazy, Harper. He has a gun."

"Where are you?" I asked. "Are you in the basement? Can you see a window?"

"It's... it's dark," she cried. "I think I'm underground. I can hear water dripping. Please, Harper, just give him the key. Save yourself."

It was a perfect performance. The fear. The selflessness. If I hadn't seen the emails, if I hadn't seen the wine, I would have believed her.

But then I heard it.

In the background of the call. A low, rhythmic hum.

*Thrum-thrum-hiss. Thrum-thrum-hiss.*

It wasn't water dripping. It wasn't a basement.

I looked at the elevator display. I was passing the 80th floor. The server room was on the 30th. But the Penthouse had its own dedicated cooling system for Sterling's private trading terminal.

A massive, industrial cooling unit.

"Mia," I said, my voice changing. Becoming cold. "Is it cold where you are?"

"Freezing," she wept. "I can't feel my fingers."

The elevator dinged. The doors opened.

I stepped into the Penthouse foyer. Marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

And silence. Except for that hum.

It was louder here. Coming from the north wing.

I didn't hang up. I walked toward the sound.

"Harper?" Mia asked. "Are you there?"

"I'm here, Mia."

I turned the corner. The north wing was a gallery of modern art and expensive furniture.

At the end of the hall, a door was ajar.

I walked toward it. The hum grew louder.

I pushed the door open.

Mia was sitting at a desk, her back to me. She was holding the phone to her ear with one hand. In the other, she held a glass of champagne.

She wasn't shivering. She wasn't crying.

"He's coming back," she said into the phone, her voice pitching up into a scream of terror. "Harper, please! Help me!"

She took a sip of champagne.

I lowered the phone.

"Hello, Mia," I said to her back.

Mia froze. She slowly lowered the phone. She turned around in the swivel chair.

Her face was dry. Her eyes were hard.

"You're early," she said.

"And you're a liar," I replied.

She smiled. It wasn't the smile of my sister. It was the smile of a stranger.

"I'm a survivor, Harper. Just like you."

She stood up. She was wearing a designer dress, not rags. She looked rested, wealthy, and dangerous.

"Did you really think I was in a dungeon?" she asked, gesturing to the opulent room. "Sterling doesn't keep prisoners. He keeps partners."

"You helped him kill Liam," I said, my hand tightening on the stun baton in my pocket.

"I helped him clean up a mess," she corrected. "Liam was a liability. He was going to drag us all down. I did what I had to do to protect the family."

"You *are* the liability," I said.

Mia laughed. "Me? I'm the future of this firm. And you... you're just a loose end."

She pressed a button on the desk.

"Marcus? She's here."

She wasn't in a basement. She was in the Lion's Den. Working.