Buckley, between retches, tried to scream: "No!"
Pemberton froze mid-gesture, his face going pale as he realized what was coming.
The cavalry had arrived.
Pemberton was about to discover what happened when you underestimated a woman like Sarah.
37
The screens came backto life.
Sarah's heart was still hammering from watching Griff fight to reach her. Now he lay pinned under three guards, blood running from his temple, eyes finding hers across the chaos. Still conscious. Still trying to protect her even when he couldn't protect himself.
The Stillwater logo shattered across every display. Financial records cascaded down—wire transfers, coded authorizations, forty-seven death sentences documented in sterile banking language.
Then the smell hit.
The acidic stench of vomit filled the ballroom as Doc's ipecac took full effect.
"Bear Spray, stay calm." Ronan's voice in her ear, steady as steel. "We're moving in now."
The crowd surged toward the exits, designer suits andthousand-dollar shoes pushing, shoving, climbing over chairs. Someone screamed. A table overturned, sending silverware flying. Crystal shattered against marble.
"I've got eyes on you, Bear Spray," Maya said through comms. "Northwest corner, moving through the kitchen."
"Deke's at the main entrance," Izzy added. "Axel's covering the stage."
Sarah's wrists burned against the zip-ties. The guards flanking her had loosened their grips, torn between duty and disgust as their senator retched on live television. But not enough to break free.
That's when she saw David.
He stood frozen in the VIP section, the only official not sick, watching the screens display his financial signature on every murder authorization. His Treasury credentials hung around his thin neck. While others fled or threw up, he stared at the evidence, face draining of color.
Then he bolted.
Not toward the stage to help. Not maintaining his cover. Heading for the exit.
Coward.
“David’s escaping,” she practically yelled into comms.
“On it,” a female voice responded. "Pemberton's rabbiting. Southeast exit."
"I don't have an angle," Kenji responded. "Too many civilians."
Federal agents burst through the main doors. "FBI! Everyone remain calm!"
But calm was impossible. The ballroom had become a war zone of fleeing elites, and exposed secrets. Buckley tried to scream "DEEP FAKE" between retches.
An ambassador's wife fainted. Someone pulled a fire alarm, adding to the chaos.
David was almost at the exit.
Sarah's hands twisted against the zip-ties. She needed to stop him. He'd designed the system that would have killed forty-seven people. He'd betrayed her, used her, tried to have her murdered. And now he was going to escape while everyone focused on Buckley.
Sarah stared at her bound hands. The zip-ties were too tight to slip. But Griff had shown her another way, one that made her stomach turn just thinking about it.
"Doc, talk me through thumb dislocation," she said.
