Dakota's POV
My legs carry me to his office chair even though I'm not sure they're supposed to work anymore. I sit down because I don't have anywhere else to be. Because standing feels impossible. Because moving gives my hands something to do besides shake.
Jordan pours himself a drink. Whiskey maybe. Something amber that catches the light from the city below. He doesn't offer me any. He just walks to the window and stands there looking out at the lights like he didn't just watch a man die.
The office is quiet except for the sound of the cleanup crew working efficiently in the corner. They have a body bag now. They're moving Reeves with the kind of practiced efficiency that tells me this isn't the first time they've done this for Jordan March.
"Thomas Reeves was the Vice President of Research," Jordan says. He's still facing the window. His reflection stares back at him from the glass. "He'd been with this company for eight years. I promoted him myself. I trusted him more than I've trusted anyone."
I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.
"Three weeks ago, I discovered that he was selling our AI technology to a competitor named Richard Voss. Not just selling it. Giving it away piece by piece. For three million dollars." Jordan takes a drink. "Three million. For research that cost us two billion to develop. For patents that would have made this company untouchable in the next decade."
He turns around to face me now.
"Do you understand what that means, Dakota?"
I nod even though I'm not sure I do.
"It means Reeves was going to destroy March Dynamics. It means billions in market value would disappear overnight. It means investors would panic. Stock would crash. Jobs would vanish. Thousands of people would lose their livelihoods because one man decided his conscience was worth more than his loyalty."
Jordan sits on the edge of his desk. Not in a casual way. In the way a predator rests between kills.
"So Reeves became a problem that needed solving. That's how the world works, Dakota. People are problems. They're assets or they're threats. There's no in between. Either they're useful or they're dangerous. Either they're loyal or they're betraying you."
"And he was dangerous," I whisper.
"He was trying to run when you saw him," Jordan says. "Did you notice that? He wasn't trying to fight me. He wasn't trying to negotiate or explain or convince me of anything. He was running. Which means on some level he already knew what was going to happen to him. He already understood that his choice had consequences."
I think about Reeves backing away. His panic. The way he looked at the windows like jumping fifty stories was better than facing Jordan.
"He knew," I say.
"Of course he knew. He sold stolen technology to a competitor. He forfeited his right to walk away from that choice." Jordan takes another drink. "The world doesn't work on feelings, Dakota. It works on action and reaction. Cause and effect. Choice and consequence. That man made his choice. I made mine. That's just information. That's just how things work when you understand the rules."
He says it all like he's explaining math. Like he's reading from balance sheets instead of explaining murder. Like death is just another business problem to solve.
And the most terrifying part is that I start to understand him.
I start to see the logic underneath the horror. I start to understand that he's not evil. He's just honest about what the world actually is instead of what people pretend it is. My mother works nights at a hospital watching people die. Marcus works construction jobs that break his body. I work for minimum wage doing spreadsheets I could do in my sleep. We're all solving problems. We're all surviving. We're just using different methods.
Jordan is just willing to be the knife instead of the wound.
"Are you going to kill me?" The words come out before I can stop them.
"No," he says simply.
"Why not? I saw everything. I'm a loose end."
"You're not a loose end," Jordan says. He sets his drink down and walks toward me. I should be terrified. I should run. Instead I just watch him come closer. "Loose ends are people who don't understand the value of silence. People who talk because they have morals or guilt or a need to be honest. You're not that person, Dakota."
"How do you know?"
"Because you stood in this office and watched a man die and you didn't scream or cry or run. Because you're still sitting in my chair instead of trying to escape. Because you've been surviving your whole life by understanding when to fight and when to accept what you can't change." He stops in front of me. "You know what it takes to live in this world. You know that sometimes things happen and you just have to adapt."
I look up at him and there's something in his eyes that I didn't see before. Something underneath the cold logic. Something that looks almost like recognition.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
"Now you go back to your apartment and you pack a bag with whatever you need," Jordan says. "You tell nobody. You don't call your family. You don't contact anyone. You just pack and you wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For me to send a car to pick you up."
I stand up and my legs feel stronger now. Like my body is starting to accept what my mind already understands. This is happening. Whatever this is, it's happening.
"And if I don't get in the car?"
Jordan walks back to his desk and picks up his phone. He pulls up something and shows me the screen. It's footage from security cameras. It's me at my desk. Me in the break room. Me going back to my apartment last month. It's months of surveillance. It's proof that he knows exactly where I am every second of every day.
"You're already in the car, Dakota," he says quietly. "You've been in the car for six months. You just didn't know it yet."
I feel like something is shifting underneath my feet. Like the ground I thought was solid is actually water.
"I can't leave," I say. "My mother needs me. Marcus needs me. I have bills and responsibilities and—"
"And they'll be fine without you for a while," Jordan interrupts. "Your mother has her job. Your brother has his construction work. They've survived before you came home every night. They'll survive while you're gone."
"Where are you taking me?"
He smiles and it's the first time I've seen him do it. It's not a kind smile. It's a smile that knows things. It's a smile that's already made decisions about my future.
"Somewhere safe," he says. "Somewhere nobody can find you. Somewhere you're going to understand exactly what you witnessed tonight and why it matters."
"And if I refuse?"
"You won't," Jordan says. He moves toward the window and I follow. We both look out at the city lights together. Two people standing in an office where a man just died. Two people about to change everything. "Because refusing means your mother gets caught up in this. It means your brother becomes a problem. It means everyone you love becomes leverage and I'm not interested in leverage. I'm interested in you."
My heart is pounding so hard I think my chest might crack open.
"I'm not asking you to come with me because you have a choice, Dakota," Jordan says. His voice is soft now. Almost gentle. "I'm telling you because I respect your intelligence enough to be honest. You're coming with me tonight."
He pulls out his phone and makes a call. Within seconds I hear the answer.
"Have the penthouse prepared," he says. "And send a car to her apartment. She'll be ready in twenty minutes."
He hangs up and looks at me.
"Your life just changed, Dakota Chen. And the worst part is you already know it's too late to stop it."