“We found Young,” Luc said, laying the map on the table. “He’s heading for the old Hayworth airstrip. Decommissioned, but the runway’s still long enough for a light jet. Perfect for a quiet, desperate exit.”
Sofia clutched her mug. The senator wasn’t just escaping—he was trying to control the narrative.
Carlos pointed to a spot on the layout. “We hit him there. Quick in, quick out. He’s desperate, but not stupid.”
Tonio shook his head once. “He’s past strategy. He’s in spite mode now.”
The words echoed his confession: the son, the buried crime, the feds. Young wasn’t trying to win. He was trying to burn the whole game down on his way out.
“He’ll try to spin it,” Sofia said quietly.
Three sets of eyes swung toward her.
She swallowed, then went on. “A failing politician doesn’t just run. He makes it look like he’s being chased. If he disappears, he controls the story.”
Tonio’s gaze sharpened, folding the information into what he already knew.
Luc’s eyes narrowed. “And if he succeeds, he becomes a martyr instead of a coward.”
“Exactly,” Sofia said. “The only thing that kills his voice is exposure. Cameras. Eyes. You don’t have to change what you’re doing—just make sure he can’t slip away in the dark.”
Luc’s expression shifted—recognition, not revelation. “Force daylight on him.”
Carlos grunted. “Turn the airfield into a fishbowl.”
Tonio sat back, thoughtful. He wasn’t taking her plan; he was taking herangleand fitting it into his own strategy.
“Fine,” he said. “We keep the team and the hit. But we leak enough to make the place public. FBI. Press. He loses the exit—and he loses control of the story.”
Carlos nodded. “He walks into his own spotlight.”
Luc gave the final call. “Make it happen.”
Sofia didn’t celebrate, didn’t smile. She wasn’t running their world—she’d simply pointed at a blind spot in theirs. Luc folded the map and rose from the table. The shift in the room was immediate—the conversation turning clipped, purposeful.
Carlos was already on his phone. “I’ll reroute the team. We’ll need eyes on the fence line and a second unit staged on the access road.”
“Make sure they’re clean,” Luc added. “If Young so much as smells us, he’ll bolt.”
Carlos nodded and disappeared down the corridor.
Luc turned back to Tonio. “We need a controlled leak. Not loud—precise.”
Tonio tapped the table. “Use Macaulay.”
Luc’s brow lifted. “The finance reporter? I thought she hated us.”
“She does,” Tonio said evenly. “But she hates politicians more. And she’ll know the story checks out because it came from you.”
Luc’s mouth pulled into a thin, knowing line. “I’ll handle it.”
He stepped out to make the call, leaving Tonio and Sofia alone at the table.
Sofia sat quietly asthe men planned, the hum of strategy surrounding her like a machine she didn’t belong in. She stayed put, neither shrinking nor intruding.
Tonio reached for his gun on the counter, checking it with a practiced motion. To her, it didn’t seem like a performance—not anymore. He did not need to hide anything from her now.
“You don’t have to be in here for this,” he said, not looking up.
