The testimony was the first blow. Not the last.
14
DYLAN
The stitches come out three days after the testimony. Willa works with steady hands, snipping the black threads and pulling them free while I focus on the laptop screen balanced on my knee. The pain is manageable now, reduced from a constant fire to an occasional throb when I move wrong.
"You're healing well," she says, applying fresh bandages. "Another week and you'll be cleared for operational status."
"Good." I scroll through the latest batch of articles, watching the story we built spread across platforms and publications. "We're going to need everyone operational soon."
The testimony created a foundation. Federal interest followed. Now it's time for the next phase.
Reagan sits at the dining table with three phones and two laptops arranged in front of her, coordinating with journalist contacts across the country. She's been working since before dawn, her coffee growing cold beside her as she manages what she calls a "rolling investigation."
"Not a single release," she explained when we planned this. "That's too easy to suppress or discredit. We release in waves. Each wave builds on the last. Each wave brings new sourcesout of the woodwork who corroborate what we've already published."
The first wave dropped this morning.
Three major investigative outlets published simultaneously, their articles focused on Morrison's historical war crimes and the origins of Protocol Seven. Satellite imagery of Khalid's village before and after the attack. Chemical analysis of soil samples that independent labs verified. Communication intercepts that trace authorization back to Morrison's office. Testimony from scientists who worked on the chemical compounds, their identities protected but their credentials verified.
The documentation is meticulous. Reagan spent months building this case, cross-referencing sources, verifying authenticity, preparing for exactly the kind of scrutiny we knew would come. Delaney is still working on chain of custody protocols for the physical evidence, building the framework that will hold up to federal evidentiary standards when the time comes.
Within hours, the Committee's response materializes across every platform. Coordinated accounts pushing narratives about foreign interference. Opinion pieces questioning Reagan's credibility, citing her "history of conspiracy-minded journalism." Anonymous sources claiming the documents were fabricated, the satellite imagery doctored, the soil samples contaminated.
"They're throwing everything at the wall," Reagan says, not looking up from her phones. "Hoping something sticks."
"Is it working?"
She shrugs, a gesture that manages to convey both exhaustion and determination. "With some people. The mainstream outlets are being cautious. Lots of 'allegations' and'claims' and 'if verified.' They're not dismissing us, but they're not fully embracing the story either."
I watch her work, the way her fingers fly across keyboards and screens, the way she pivots from one conversation to another without losing track of any of them. She's been a journalist for years, but this is different. This is war conducted through words and documents and carefully timed revelations.
"The independents are more aggressive," she continues. "Three outlets have already reached out to say they're digging deeper. Finding additional sources. Corroborating details we couldn't include in the initial release."
"That's the plan."
She finally looks up, meeting my eyes. "But Dylan, it's also dangerous. The more attention this gets, the more exposed we become. Every journalist who picks up this story becomes a target. Every source who comes forward risks their career, their safety, maybe their life."
"They know the risks."
"Do they?" Her voice carries an edge I haven't heard before. "I'm not sure I did, when I started this investigation. I thought I was chasing a story. I didn't know I was declaring war on people who consider murder an acceptable business expense."
I set the laptop aside and cross to where she's sitting. My side protests the movement, but I ignore it. "You're doing the right thing."
"I know." She leans back in her chair, pressing her palms against her eyes. "I know I am. But knowing doesn't make it easier."
Kane appears from the back hallway, his expression tight in a way that means he's been monitoring communications. "Federal prosecutors just subpoenaed financial records from several entities we named in the exposé."
Reagan drops her hands, suddenly alert. "Which records?"
"Everything tied to the shell companies you identified. Bank statements, wire transfers, corporate filings." Kane crosses to the tactical display we've set up on one wall, pulling up a document on his tablet. "They're moving faster than I expected."
"That's good, right?" I ask.
"It's good for building a case. It's bad for our security." Kane turns to face us. "The more pressure the investigators put on the Committee, the more desperate Webb becomes. Desperate people make mistakes, but they also take risks they wouldn't normally take."
"Like hitting us again. Harder this time."
