“He put his hands on you,” Levi said. His voice was too calm, the way it got right before he did something drastic. “The only thing you need to say to him is that you never want to see him again.”
“I thought that, too,” I said. “But he’s not the only one at stake here. His staff. The work. The platform. I think there’s a way to turn this into something that actually helps.”
“By giving him a second chance?” Ryker asked, skepticism clear.
“No,” I said. “By replacing him.”
That got their attention.
Fourteen sets of eyes on me, some wary, some intrigued. Levi’s most of all.
I centered myself with a breath, like stepping up to a lectern before a difficult speech.
“Derek shouldn’t be in charge of that newsroom anymore,” I said. “Not after what he did tonight. Not after the deals he made behind my back. That line stays a line. But the company doesn’t have to die with him.”
“You’re talking about a hostile takeover,” Silas said slowly. “Journalism edition.”
“I’m talking about redirecting it,” I said. “You said yourselves—The Vanguard has been using people like him as levers. Buying influence through donors, through ‘lifelines.’ If his outlet collapses, they’ll just move on to another one. Another desperate editor. Another struggling operation. Same playbook, different logo.”
Elias’s fingers were already moving on his keyboard, probably pulling up financials, donor lists, a corporate structure I’d only glimpsed.
“What’s your play?” Noah asked quietly.
I swallowed. Once I said it out loud, it became real.
“I take over the company,” I said. “With your backing. Financial, legal, whatever structure makes sense so I’m not just a sacrificial figurehead. Derek steps down. Publicly, it’s an internal succession—new leadership, new direction. Privately, it’s us cutting off a Vanguard conduit at the knees and building something better in its place.”
Silence again. Not hostile. Measuring.
Levi’s jaw flexed. “You want to run a newsroom.”
“I already run half of it,” I said, a little sharper than I meant to. “Every big story, every ethics fight, every time I’ve refused to soften a line because some donor or politician got nervous? That’s been me. This is just … owning it.”
I looked at Byron.
“You said you wanted the truth out,” I added. “But on your terms. In ways that don’t get the wrong people killed. I know how to walk that line. You don’t need a pet journalist. You need someone at the helm who understands both sides of this.”
Our eyes held.
For a second, something like respect flickered there, under the older grief. “And Derek?”
“I talk to him,” I said. “I make it clear this is the only path where he doesn’t lose everything. His job, his staff, his life.”
Levi’s chair scraped back.
“You’re not going in there alone,” he said. “Not with him. Not after?—”
Marcus spoke up, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
“He’s restrained,” he said. “We’ve got him in one of the downstairs rooms. Hands zip-tied, ankles, too. Two of our guys on him. Doctor patched him up. He’s not going anywhere, and he’s not putting hands on anyone again.”
Levi shot him a look. “And you think that makes this okay?”
“I think it makes it controlled,” Marcus said calmly. “If Amelia wants to talk to him, it’s better she does it before we decide what to do with him. She’s right—he’s a vector. Information. Influence. We’d be stupid not to use that.”
Gideon nodded slowly. “She’s also right about the staff,” he said. “I’ve seen what happens when you decapitate an outfit like that without planning for the vacuum. The bad guys move in faster than the good ones.”
Levi looked between them, then back at me. I could see the war in his eyes—the part that wanted me nowhere near Derek again, and the part that respected my judgment even when he hated it.
