Nadia's POV
We can't go tonight.
I stared at Dominic like he'd gone insane. Sarah's going to die!
Sarah's already dead, or she will be no matter what we do. He crushed another surveillance device under his boot. They've been watching us for weeks. They know every plan. Every strategy. The moment we step outside, they'll be waiting.
So we do nothing?
We do something smarter. We find out who's been spying on us. Who really killed Linda Morrison. Who's orchestrating all of this. He pulled up his computer. Because it's not just Victor or Marcus. Someone else is pulling the strings.
While Sarah dies!
You want to save her? Fine. We save her by destroying whoever's holding her. His voice was harsh. But we do it my way, or we all die. Your choice, Counselor.
I hated him in that moment. Hated his cold logic. His refusal to just do something.
But he was right.
Running into a trap wouldn't save anyone.
How long? I asked. How long do we wait?
As long as it takes to figure out who's watching us.
It took three days.
Three days of searching the loft for bugs. Three days of reviewing evidence with the sound off, communicating through written notes. Three days of Dominic making calls on burner phones he destroyed immediately after.
Three days of wondering if Sarah was still alive.
On day thirty, Dominic woke me before dawn.
It's time, he said.
Time for what?
Your first exit option. Day thirty. As promised. He placed a thick document on the table. The contract.
I'd forgotten about it. Thirty days of captivity. Thirty days of learning that everything I believed was a lie.
Thirty days of becoming someone I didn't recognize.
I picked up the contract and read it. Legal language, but the meaning was clear: Sign this, walk away with one million dollars, and Dominic would destroy all the fabricated evidence against me. My name cleared. My life back.
If I sign, I said slowly, what happens to your evidence of innocence?
I destroy it. All of it.
And you go to trial, get convicted, and die in prison.
Yes.
I stared at the contract. At the promise of freedom written in black and white.
One month ago, this would have been everything I wanted. Money. Safety. My reputation restored.
But now?
Now I thought about Linda Morrison, executed in her home for trying to expose corruption. About Elena and Lily Ashford, murdered to punish Dominic for wanting out. About every innocent person crushed by the system I'd believed in.
About Sarah, possibly dead because she'd tried to help me.
I picked up the contract.
Dominic's expression didn't change. But I saw tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw clenched. His hands gripped the edge of the table.
He was afraid I'd sign. Afraid I'd leave him to face this alone.
I tore the contract in half. Then in quarters. Then into tiny pieces.
You're an idiot, Dominic said, but there was warmth in his voice I'd never heard before.
We have 335 days left. Let's not waste them.
Something shifted between us after that.
Dominic started sharing more. Not just evidence, but why he did what he did. His criminal empire wasn't random violence, it was targeted. Strategic.
You only go after other criminals, I said, reviewing files on his operations. You don't hurt civilians.
Civilians are collateral damage in my father's world. I made them off-limits in mine.
That's... almost noble.
Don't romanticize it. I'm still a criminal. Just one with standards.
Standards are more than most people have.
Over the next few days, he taught me more. How his organization worked. The people he protected. The code he followed, twisted as it was.
You could have been anything, I said one night. With your intelligence, your education, you could have built something legitimate.
I tried. Had a tech security company. Was making it work. His expression darkened. Then my family died, and legitimate stopped mattering.
It could matter again.
You think there's redemption for someone like me?
I think people can change. If they want to.
He looked at me like I'd said something profound. Or insane. Maybe both.
We worked late that night, reviewing Victor's financial records. Looking for patterns. Clues to who else might be involved in the conspiracy.
Our hands brushed over a document.
Neither of us pulled away.
The air between us changed. Charged. Electric.
This is a bad idea, I whispered.
Everything about this situation is a bad idea, Dominic replied, his voice low. What's one more?
His hand covered mine. Warm. Real.
I should have pulled away. Should have reminded him I was his captive. That this was wrong on every level.
Instead, I turned my hand over and laced my fingers through his.
We can't, I said, even as I leaned closer.
I know.
You kidnapped me.
I did.
I should hate you.
You should.
But I didn't. Somewhere in thirty days of captivity, of shared truth, of fighting the same enemies I'd stopped seeing him as my captor.
And started seeing him as the only person I could trust.
Nadia, he said quietly. If we do this
His phone buzzed. Loud in the quiet loft.
We jerked apart like we'd been caught doing something wrong.
He checked the message and his face went pale.
What? I demanded. What now?
He showed me the screen.
A photo. Sarah Chen. Still alive. But barely. Bruised. Bloodied. Holding today's newspaper.
Below it, a message: Day 33. She's still breathing. For now. Ready to talk about surrender yet?
My brief moment of connection with Dominic shattered.
She's alive, I breathed. Sarah's still alive.
For now. They're keeping her alive as bait.
Another message arrived: P.S. - Congratulations on tearing up the contract, Ms. Cross. Very noble. Very stupid. But we expected that from you. You always were predictable. That's why we chose you. M.W.
Marcus. Marcus Webb had sent this.
He's been watching, I said. He knew about the contract. Knew I'd tear it up.
Which means he still has eyes on us. Dominic started searching again. We missed something. There's still a bug somewhere.
We tore the loft apart. Found two more cameras. One in the bathroom vent. One hidden in a book spine in the law library.
How long? I asked. How long have they been watching?
Since the beginning, probably. Dominic crushed the devices. Every conversation. Every plan. Every moment we thought we were safe.
My skin crawled. They'd watched us work. Watched us eat. Watched us almost
I couldn't finish the thought.
We need to leave, I said. This place is compromised.
Agreed. I have a safe house across town. We'll move tonight. He started packing equipment. But first, we send Marcus a message.
What kind of message?
The kind that tells him we're not playing his game anymore. We're playing ours.
He pulled up his computer and started typing. A message that would go to every news outlet in Metro City simultaneously.
I read over his shoulder:
To the citizens of Metro City: Your courthouse is corrupt. Senior Prosecutor Marcus Webb has been taking bribes for 15 years. Judge Catherine Rivers has been bought by organized crime. The evidence will be released in 302 days unless they come clean first. The clock is ticking. Concerned Citizens
You're bluffing, I said. We don't have all the evidence yet.
They don't know that. And now they'll be scrambling. Making mistakes. Panicking. He hit send. Sometimes the best move is the one your enemy doesn't expect.
Within minutes, his phone exploded with messages. News alerts. Breaking news notifications.
Marcus Webb's public statement: These allegations are baseless and defamatory. We will prosecute whoever is behind this false campaign to the fullest extent of the law.
He's scared, Dominic said with satisfaction. Good.
But I wasn't celebrating. Because another message had arrived. This one private. This one terrifying.
A video file from an unknown sender.
I pressed play.
A man appeared on screen. Older. Gray-haired. Powerful-looking.
Victor Ashford. Dominic's father.
Hello, son, Victor said, his voice cold. I see you've been busy. Corrupting your attorney. Planning your little rebellion. It's almost admirable. He leaned closer to the camera. But you've made a critical mistake. You think this is about Marcus, or Catherine, or the courthouse. It's not. It's about family. It's about teaching you what happens when you betray the Ashford name.
The camera panned.
To show another person tied to a chair.
Not Sarah.
Someone else.
A woman with sharp features and angry eyes.
Hello, Dominic, she said. Nice mess you've made.
I gasped. Who is that?
Dominic's face had gone white as paper. Sophia. My sister.
Victor's laugh filled the room. That's right. Big sister came to visit. Wanted to help you. Wanted to provide evidence against me. How touching. He placed a gun against Sophia's head. You have 24 hours to surrender yourself. Just you, not the girl. Come alone, or Sophia dies. And unlike Detective Chen, your sister actually matters to you. So let's see if blood is thicker than whatever foolish bond you've formed with your captive.
The video ended.
Dominic stood frozen. Completely still.
Your sister, I whispered. I didn't know you had a sister.
I haven't seen her in eight years. Since Elena and Lily's funeral. She left the family. Wanted nothing to do with us. His voice was hollow. She must have been the one helping us. Providing financial evidence.
The anonymous source.
And now Victor has her.
I watched him process it. The same choice I'd faced with Sarah. Surrender and die, or let someone you love die instead.
We'll save her, I said. Together. We'll
No. His voice was hard. Final. Victor wants me, not you. I'll go alone.
That's suicide!
Probably. But it's my sister. My family. My responsibility.
Dominic, you can't
This conversation is over. He started packing a bag. I'm leaving in twenty-three hours. You're staying here. You continue the investigation. You expose them all. You make sure Victor pays for everything he's done.
I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone!
He grabbed my arms, forcing me to look at him. You are. Because if we both die, then Marcus and Victor win. The corruption continues. Everyone we care about died for nothing. His grip tightened. You're the only person who can finish this, Nadia. Promise me you will.
Tears burned my eyes. I can't lose you.
You barely know me.
I know enough.
He pulled me close, and for one moment, one perfect, terrible moment, he held me like I mattered. Like I was more than his captive or his partner.
Like I was someone worth saving.
Then he let go.
Twenty-three hours, he said. Make them count.
He walked away, leaving me standing there with the weight of an impossible choice crushing my chest.
Save Dominic, or finish the investigation.
Trust my heart, or trust the mission.
And somewhere, Victor Ashford was waiting for both of us to make the wrong choice.