"Good." She closed the distance by half a step. "Let me be very plain, Derek. This is not negotiation. This is instruction. You either hand over your friends on a silver platter, or you watch the entire pack of you become front-page breakfast. And believe me—" Another measured inch forward. "—I would enjoy it. Sources are never in short supply."
"…What exactly do you want?"
"Everything. Every skeleton. Every locked drawer. Every body in the basement. Fuck the devil twice if that's what it takes—I don't care about method. I want evidence. I want proof. I want enough ordnance to reduce Brett and Anderson's entire existences to smoking craters."
Derek's jaw worked like rusted gears. The audible grind of pride being force-fed down a throat already full of bile.
"…Fine. I'll email tomorrow."
"Today."
"What?"
"Not tonight. Today. Or I start dialling."
"FINE."
