The FBI executed the arrest warrants at dawn.
Sophia watched it unfold on the news from her hotel room, Chen beside her with coffee and a tablet showing live feeds from multiple sources. Senator Richard Castellano being led from his Georgetown townhouse in handcuffs, his face a mask of outraged dignity. His lawyer was already shouting about political persecution, witch hunts, abuse of power.
"They got him," Chen said with satisfaction. "The evidence from Volkov's drive was irrefutable. Castellano's finished."
"And Cross?"
Chen's expression darkened. "He wasn't at his apartment. Wasn't at his office. His phone is off, credit cards unused. He disappeared sometime last night."
Sophia's stomach dropped. "He knew."
"Looks like it. We have an APB out, airports and borders are watching for him, but…" Chen didn't need to finish. Men like Cross knew how to vanish. Had contingency plans for contingency plans.
The news cut to footage of the FBI raiding Cross Protection Services headquarters. Agents carrying out boxes of files, computer equipment, everything that might contain evidence. A reporter stood outside, breathlessly explaining that this was "connected to the shocking arrest of Senator Castellano" and "part of a wider corruption investigation."
Sophia's phone buzzed. Her personal phone, not the burner. A text from Maya:
OH MY GOD. Are you seeing this?? Senator Castellano?? This is insane! Are you okay? Call me!
Sophia wanted to call. Wanted to hear her best friend's voice well, see her signs. Wanted the comfort of normalcy. But Chen had been clear: no contact with anyone from her old life until Cross was in custody. Every connection was a potential vulnerability.
She texted back: I'm safe. Can't talk details but I'm okay. Love you.
Maya's response was immediate: Love you too. Be careful. This is scary stuff.
If only Maya knew how scary.
Agent Chen's tablet pinged with an alert. She read it, her face going pale. "Sophia. We have a problem."
"What?"
"Volkov. She's dead. Her body was found an hour ago in her Brooklyn Heights townhouse. Single gunshot to the head. Professional hit."
The room tilted. Sophia grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. "Cross."
"Most likely. Tying up loose ends. Volkov gave us the evidence, but she was also a witness who could testify against him. Now she can't." Chen's jaw was tight with anger. "He's cleaning house. Anyone who can connect him to the conspiracy."
"Am I next?"
Chen met her eyes. "He'd have to find you first. And we're not going to let that happen."
But they'd said that before. Multiple times. And Cross had found her anyway.
Sophia moved to the window, looked out at the Manhattan morning. Somewhere in this city of eight million people, Damien Cross was hiding. Planning. Hunting.
Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.
I'm sorry about Elena. She made her choice. Just like Torres made his. Just like you're making yours. We all face consequences eventually.
Sophia showed Chen, who immediately started tracing the message. But they both knew it would lead nowhere. Cross was too careful.
"He's taunting you," Chen said. "Trying to scare you."
"It's working."
"Don't let him get in your head. We have the evidence. Castellano is in custody. Cross is on the run, which means he's desperate. Desperate people make mistakes."
But Cross hadn't seemed desperate yesterday. He'd seemed confident. In control. Like he was playing a game only he understood.
Another text arrived:
Question for you, Sophia. What's worse - being hunted or being bait? Because right now, you're both. Sleep tight.
"What does he mean?" Chen demanded, reading over Sophia's shoulder. "Bait for what?"
Sophia's mind raced through possibilities. Cross was wanted by law enforcement. On the run. Resources limited. But he was still texting her, still making contact, still
"He wants me to lead him to something," Sophia signed slowly, the realization crystallizing. "Or someone. Who would he want badly enough to risk capture?"
Chen's eyes widened. "Castellano. He's afraid the senator will flip. Will testify against him to save himself. Cross needs to silence him before that happens."
"But Castellano is in FBI custody. Maximum security. How would Cross even"
"Through you. If he can grab you, use you as leverage, he might be able to negotiate. Trade you for access to Castellano. Or trade you for information about where Castellano is being held."
"That's insane."
"That's desperate." Chen was already on her phone, rapid-firing texts to her team. "We're moving you again. Right now. Somewhere Cross can't possibly anticipate."
But as Sophia packed her bag for what felt like the hundredth time, she couldn't shake the feeling that moving was exactly what Cross wanted. That every step she took was choreographed, anticipated, part of a larger plan she couldn't see.
They left through the hotel's service entrance, Chen's hand on Sophia's elbow, guiding her toward an unmarked SUV. Two agents flanked them, weapons drawn, eyes scanning every shadow.
They were halfway to the vehicle when Sophia felt it a vibration she recognized. Not sound, but the sensation of something moving through the air. Fast. Dangerous.
She yanked Chen sideways just as the bullet struck where they'd been standing, embedding in the brick wall with a spray of dust.
Chaos erupted. The agents returned fire toward a rooftop across the street. Chen shoved Sophia behind the SUV, her weapon drawn, body positioned protectively. More shots. Glass shattering. Someone screaming.
"Get her out of here!" Chen shouted to one of the agents. "GO!"
The agent young, barely older than Sophia grabbed her arm and pulled her into the SUV. The engine was already running. They peeled away from the curb, tires squealing, just as another shot punched through the rear window.
Sophia looked back. Chen was still there, coordinating with the other agents, returning fire. Safe. For now.
The agent drove like he was in a action movie weaving through traffic, running red lights, taking turns that made the SUV tilt dangerously. Sophia held on, her heart hammering, the wire still taped to her back transmitting everything.
"Where are we going?" Sophia signed, though she knew the agent probably didn't understand ASL.
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, said something she couldn't read. Then pulled out his phone, typed one-handed while driving: Safe location. 20 minutes. You okay?
Sophia nodded, though "okay" was a stretch. Someone had just tried to kill her. Again. Cross was escalating. Getting bolder. More reckless.
Or more confident.
They drove for fifteen minutes, heading toward what Sophia thought was Brooklyn. The agent kept checking mirrors, taking random turns, ensuring they weren't followed. Professional. Thorough.
They pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a nondescript office building. The agent parked in a far corner, killed the engine, and finally turned to face Sophia.
He was young late twenties, maybe. Dark hair, sharp features, nervous energy. He pulled out his phone, typed: I'm Agent Marcus Webb. I'll be protecting you until Agent Chen can regroup.
Sophia froze. Marcus Webb. That name. She'd seen it in her research. Marcus Webb owned a private security firm that contracted with Cross's company.
This wasn't an FBI agent. This was one of Cross's people.