Julian

"They're not just coming," Elena whispered in the dark. "They're here."

The glass of the front entrance shattered inward, a crystalline explosion that echoed through the pitch-black precinct. Shouts erupted from the lobby. Not police shouts. These were different. Aggressive. Organized.

"Stay down," Miller hissed, shoving Elena and Silas under the metal interrogation table. He drew his service weapon, the slide clicking in the silence. "The backup generator should have kicked in. Someone cut the line."

Elena clutched the laptop to her chest. In the darkness, the screen was the only source of light, its glow illuminating Bella's terrified face.

"Is it them?" Bella asked, her voice trembling. "Is it my mother?"

"It's not your mother," Silas said grimly. "Seraphina doesn't do wet work. This is Julian."

Julian. The landlord. The beneficiary. The man who stood to inherit everything if the line of succession was broken.

"He wants the laptop," Elena realized. "He gave me the drive to expose Marcus, but he didn't know I had the server backup. He didn't know I had proof of *his* involvement."

Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy boots. tactical gear.

"Clear the rooms!" a voice shouted. "Find the girl. Find the drive."

Miller moved to the door, bracing himself against the frame. "I'm going to draw them off. You three get out the back."

"There is no back," Silas said. "The holding cells block the rear exit."

"Then go up," Miller said. "Roof access. Fire escape."

He opened the door and fired two shots into the ceiling.

"Police!" he roared. "Drop your weapons!"

Gunfire erupted in the hall. Deafening. Chaotic.

"Go!" Miller shouted, returning fire.

Elena grabbed Bella's hand. "Move!"

They scrambled out from under the table, Silas right behind them. They ran down the darkened corridor, away from the gunfire, toward the stairwell.

They burst into the stairwell. It was empty.

"Up," Elena said.

They climbed. Four flights. Lungs burning. Legs screaming.

They reached the roof door. It was locked.

"Move," Silas said. He stepped back and kicked the crash bar. once. Twice.

The door flew open.

They spilled out onto the roof. The cold night air hit them like a physical blow. The city lights of Manhattan glittered in the distance, indifferent to their survival.

"The fire escape," Elena said, scanning the perimeter. "Where is it?"

"There," Bella pointed.

A metal ladder clung to the side of the building, leading down into an alleyway.

But before they could move, the roof access door slammed open behind them.

Three men spilled out. Tactical vests. Night vision goggles.

"Hold it!" one of them shouted.

Silas stepped in front of Elena and Bella. "I am an attorney! You are violating federal law!"

One of the men raised a rifle.

*Thwip.*

Silas jerked back, clutching his shoulder. A dart. Tranquilizer.

He fell to his knees.

"Silas!" Elena screamed.

"Get the girl," the leader said. "Leave the woman."

Two of the men moved toward Bella.

"No!" Elena shouted. She swung the laptop like a weapon, smashing it into the face of the first man. He grunted, stumbling back.

But the second man grabbed her. He twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to her knees.

"Let her go!" Bella screamed, trying to pull him off.

The leader grabbed Bella. He held her easily, ignoring her struggles.

"We have the package," he said into his radio. "Moving to extraction."

He dragged Bella toward the edge of the roof.

"Elena!" Bella screamed. "Help me!"

"Bella!" Elena struggled, but the man holding her was too strong.

She watched helplessly as they dragged Bella to a waiting helicopter that was descending from the darkness, its rotors whipping the snow into a blinding frenzy.

They threw Bella inside. The leader jumped in after her.

The helicopter lifted off, banking sharply away from the precinct.

The man holding Elena let her go. He shoved her face into the gravel of the roof.

"Message from Mr. Hawthorne," he whispered in her ear. "The landlord always collects."

Then he ran for the fire escape.

Elena lay on the roof, the wind howling around her. Silas was unconscious beside her. Bella was gone.

She had lost.

Again.

She pushed herself up. Her face was bleeding. Her hands were raw.

She crawled over to Silas. He was breathing, but he was out cold.

She looked at the laptop. It was cracked, the screen shattered.

But the hard drive... the hard drive was solid state.

She pulled it out of the chassis.

She stood up. She walked to the edge of the roof. She watched the helicopter disappear into the night sky.

They had Bella. They had Leo. They had the money.

But they didn't have the truth.

And they didn't have her.

She needed to find Julian. She needed to find the source of the rot.

But he was a ghost. A voice on a phone. A name on a deed.

Where was he?

She remembered the text. The one from the burner phone.

*Meet me at the boathouse.*

He hadn't been at the boathouse. He had sent her there to get the drive. To set her up.

But he had been *watching*.

Which meant he was close.

"Kai," she whispered, patting her pockets for her phone. It was gone. Lost in the struggle.

She checked Silas's pockets. She found his phone.

She dialed Kai's number.

It rang. And rang.

"Pick up," she begged.

"Elena?" Kai's voice. Breathless. "Where are you? I lost the feed."

"They took Bella," Elena said. "They have Leo. I'm on the roof of the 108th. Silas is down."

"I'm coming," Kai said.

"No," Elena said. "Don't come here. Go to the airport."

"What?"

"Julian lives in New Zealand," she said. "But he's not in New Zealand. He's here. Running the show."

"So?"

"So," Elena said, looking out at the city. "If I were a ghost running a shadow empire... I wouldn't do it from a hotel room. I'd do it from somewhere mobile. Somewhere untouchable."

"A plane," Kai said.

"Find out if any private jets filed flight plans for New Zealand tonight," Elena said. "Specifically, any jets registered to *Phoenix Rising LLC*."

"On it," Kai said. The sound of typing. "Okay... okay... got it. One flight plan filed. Teterboro. Departing in forty minutes."

"Tail number?"

"N-4-2-2-H-A."

*422 Highland Avenue.* The address of the estate.

"That's him," Elena said. "That's Julian."

"Elena, you can't catch a jet."

"I don't need to catch it," Elena said. "I just need to know where it's going."

"It's going to Queenstown," Kai said. "But it has a stopover."

"Where?"

"It's refueling," Kai said. "In Chicago."

Chicago.

The lie. The alibi. The beginning of the end.

Marcus had said he was in Chicago.

Maybe he hadn't been lying about the location. Just the company.

"Meet me," Elena said. "We're going to the sheep farm."

"Elena..."

"The sheep farmer was the key," she said, cutting him off. "And I'm going to shear him."