Victoria's POV
"Don't believe him," I tell Agent Morrison, clutching my phone. "Marcus always has a backup plan."
We're sitting in a small FBI office that smells like coffee and old papers. It's been three hours since Marcus's arrest, and I still can't stop shaking.
"Mrs. Chen, I understand you're scared," Agent Morrison says. "But Dr. Chen is in a maximum-security holding cell. He can't hurt you anymore."
"Then how did he send that text?" Ezra demands, showing her his phone again.
Agent Morrison studies it, her face troubled. "We took his phone when we arrested him. He shouldn't have been able to contact anyone." She makes a call. "Check Dr. Chen's cell. Now."
We wait. The silence feels dangerous.
Agent Morrison's phone rings. Her expression darkens as she listens. "I see. Yes. Lock down the entire facility."
She hangs up. "Dr. Chen had a second phone hidden in his shoe. We've confiscated it, but he made several calls before we found it."
"Calls to who?" I ask, though I already know the answer will be bad.
"We're tracing them now." Agent Morrison leans forward. "I need you both to tell me everything. Everyone Marcus mentioned. Anyone who might help him."
"Helena Voss," I say immediately. "His colleague. She's been helping him for years."
"We have her in custody already. She's testifying against him."
"Then I don't know." I feel helpless. "Marcus never told me about his plans. He kept me drugged and isolated. I don't know who his friends are."
"What about you, Ezra?" Agent Morrison asks. "As his student, did he ever mention anyone? Other professors? People outside the university?"
Ezra thinks hard. "He talked about someone once. Called him 'the fixer.' Said this person helped him clean up problems. Made evidence disappear. But he never said a name."
"That's something." Agent Morrison makes notes. "What else?"
"There was a lawyer," I remember suddenly. "Marcus met with him secretly last month. I saw them at a restaurant when I was out walking. They were arguing about something, but when Marcus saw me, he pretended not to know the man."
"Can you describe him?"
I close my eyes, remembering. "Tall. Gray hair. Expensive suit. He had a scar on his left cheek."
Agent Morrison's face goes pale. "Robert Crane. He's one of the most dangerous defense attorneys in the country. If Marcus hired him—" She doesn't finish, but I can tell it's bad.
"What?" Ezra asks. "What does that mean?"
"It means Marcus has been planning for this arrest longer than we thought. Crane specializes in getting guilty people out of prison using technicalities and intimidation." Agent Morrison stands up. "I need to make some calls. You two stay here. Don't leave this room."
She walks out, leaving us alone.
Ezra moves his chair closer to mine. "We're going to be okay."
"You don't know that."
"No. But we've survived everything else Marcus threw at us. We'll survive this too."
I want to believe him. But Marcus's text keeps replaying in my mind. Her son's death was just the beginning.
"Ezra, what if Marcus has people watching us right now?" I whisper. "What if they're waiting for us to leave this building?"
"Then we don't leave. We stay under FBI protection until—"
The lights go out.
Emergency lights flicker on, bathing everything in red.
"That's not good," Ezra says.
An alarm starts blaring. People are shouting in the hallway.
The door bursts open. But it's not Agent Morrison. It's a man in a security uniform I don't recognize.
"You need to come with me," he says. "Building's being evacuated. Gas leak."
Something about his voice feels wrong. Too calm. Too rehearsed.
"Where's Agent Morrison?" I ask.
"Already evacuated. Come on, let's go."
Ezra grabs my hand. "We're not going anywhere with you."
The security guard's smile disappears. He pulls out a gun. "I said come on."
"You're working for Marcus," I breathe.
"Smart lady. Too bad you won't live long enough to tell anyone." He gestures with the gun. "Walk. Now. Or I shoot you here and blame it on the evacuation panic."
We have no choice. We walk.
He leads us down a back stairwell, away from the other evacuating people. My mind races. If we get outside, into a car, we're dead. We have to do something now.
"Why are you helping him?" Ezra asks, clearly trying to buy time. "Marcus is going to prison. You won't get paid."
"Already got paid. Crane made sure of that." The guard pushes open a door to the parking garage. "My job is simple. Make you two disappear. Crane will get Marcus out on bail tomorrow, and without witnesses, the case falls apart."
We step into the garage. It's dark and empty except for a black van waiting nearby.
This is it. Once we're in that van, we're dead.
"Now," Ezra whispers.
We both move at once. Ezra grabs for the gun while I kick the guard's knee as hard as I can. He goes down, cursing.
The gun skitters across the concrete. We run for it, but the guard is faster. He tackles Ezra, and they're fighting, punching, rolling across the ground.
I grab the gun with shaking hands. I've never held one before. It's heavier than I expected.
"Victoria!" Ezra shouts. The guard has him pinned, hands around his throat.
I point the gun. "Let him go!"
The guard laughs. "You won't shoot. You're too soft. Marcus said so. Said you couldn't even kill a spider without crying."
He's right. I've never hurt anyone in my life. Even after everything Marcus did to me, I never fought back.
But this isn't about me anymore.
I pull the trigger.
The gun kicks back, loud and terrifying. The bullet hits the ground near the guard's leg. He jumps back, releasing Ezra.
"Next one goes in your chest," I say, and my voice is steady even though I'm shaking. "Walk away. Now."
The guard looks at me. Really looks at me. Sees something that makes him believe me.
He runs.
Ezra gets up, coughing. "You shot at him."
"I missed on purpose. I think."
"You were amazing."
We hear footsteps. Real FBI agents this time, guns drawn, led by Agent Morrison.
"We got the alert about the fake evacuation," she says, taking the gun from my hands. "Are you two okay?"
"There's a guard working for Marcus," Ezra says quickly. "He tried to kidnap us. He went that way."
Agents run after him. Agent Morrison looks at us with new respect. "You two have more courage than most trained agents. But I'm putting you in protective custody immediately. No arguments."
"What about Marcus?" I ask. "His lawyer—Robert Crane—is going to get him out on bail."
"Not if I can help it." Agent Morrison's jaw sets. "I'm going to the judge personally. Marcus Chen will not see daylight until his trial."
But three hours later, we get the news.
Marcus made bail. Five million dollars, paid by an anonymous donor.
He's free.
"How?" I demand. "You said you'd stop this!"
"The judge overruled me. Said Marcus is a respected professor with no flight risk." Agent Morrison looks furious. "But he's under house arrest with an ankle monitor. He can't leave his property."
"That doesn't matter," Ezra says quietly. "He doesn't need to leave. He has people who'll do his work for him."
Agent Morrison puts us in a safe house across town. Two agents guard the doors. We're told not to leave, not to contact anyone, not to even look out the windows.
We're prisoners in our own protection.
That night, I can't sleep. Every sound makes me jump. Every shadow looks like Marcus.
Ezra sits with me in the small living room. "Tell me about Daniel," he says softly. "Your son. What was he like?"
No one's asked me that since he died. Everyone tiptoes around his name like saying it will break me.
"He was loud," I say, smiling through tears. "Always laughing, always running. He loved dinosaurs and hated vegetables. He used to hide broccoli in his napkin when he thought I wasn't looking."
"He sounds perfect."
"He was. And Marcus killed him to study my grief." The words still don't feel real. "What kind of monster does that?"
"The kind that needs to be stopped permanently."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me.
"Hello?"
"Victoria." It's Marcus's voice, smooth and calm. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"How did you get this number?"
"I told you. I have friends everywhere." He pauses. "I'm calling to make you an offer. Come home. Right now. Alone. And I'll let Ezra live."
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Then Ezra dies. I have someone watching him right now. Through the window of your safe house. They have a sniper rifle aimed at his head. You have sixty seconds to decide."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Marcus says. "Look at the building across the street. Third floor. Red curtains."
My blood turns to ice. I move to the window, carefully peeking through the blinds.
There's a building across the street. Third floor. Red curtains.
And in the window, I see the glint of a rifle scope pointed directly at Ezra.
"Fifty seconds, Victoria."
"The FBI will protect him—"
"Your guards are already dead. Check."
I run to the door. Both agents are slumped in their chairs, not moving. Drugged or dead, I can't tell.
"Forty seconds."
"Please," I beg. "Don't hurt him. He has a sister who needs him. He's a good person—"
"Thirty seconds. Come home, Victoria. Be the good wife I trained you to be. Or watch Ezra's brains splatter across the wall. Your choice."
Ezra sees my face. "What's wrong?"
I look at him—this brave, gentle man who saved my life. Who believed me when no one else would. Who makes me want to be strong again.
I can't let Marcus kill him.
"I'm coming," I tell Marcus. "Don't hurt him."
"Good girl. You have ten minutes."
He hangs up.
Ezra grabs my arm. "Coming where? What did he say?"
"Marcus wants me to turn myself in. If I don't, he'll kill you."
"Then we call for backup—"
"The agents are down. We're alone." I take his face in my hands. "I have to go, Ezra. I can't let you die because of me."
"No. Victoria, this is what he wants. He's separating us. Once you're alone with him—"
"I know." I smile sadly. "But at least you'll be alive."
I kiss him. Quick and desperate and full of everything I wish I could say.
Then I run out the door before he can stop me.
Behind me, Ezra shouts my name.
But I don't look back.
Marcus is waiting for me at home. I can feel it.
This time, I'm walking straight into the monster's den.
And I have no idea if I'll ever walk out.