“Down!” I shouted, dragging Julia behind the overturned table. Bullets shredded the glass wall behind us. Aaron fired back, Boone and Logan covering the entrance.
“Two shooters, south corridor!” Miles called.
“Julia, stay with me!” I barked, leaning out just long enough to return fire.
She was already moving — calm, surgical. She caught one shooter with a clean burst, then ducked back beside me. The smoke thinned just enough for me to see Reese slipping through a side exit, a small case clutched to his chest.
“He’s running!” I yelled.
Aaron cursed. “Boone, take left! Miles, lock the back entrance!”
Julia and I bolted after him, boots pounding down thehall. The sirens blared, sprinklers hissing overhead. The building’s fire suppression system rained water across steel walls, turning the floor slick and reflective.
We burst into the loading bay just as Reese climbed into an armored SUV.
I aimed. “Stop!”
He looked back, eyes calm, defiant. “You can’t stop what’s already in motion.”
Then the vehicle screeched out of the bay, fishtailing into the street.
Julia turned to me, breath sharp. “What’s already in motion?”
I shook my head. “Something bigger. Something he didn’t need this facility for.”
Behind us, Aaron’s voice came over the comm. “He’s heading toward the Potomac bridge. Get to the SUV. Now.”
We ran. The chase wasn’t over — not even close.
As we hit the street, tires squealing on wet pavement, I caught Julia’s reflection in the side mirror. Determined. Unyielding.
And for the first time in a long time, I realized I wasn’t just fighting for justice anymore.
I was fighting for her.
19
Hawk
Rain blurred the world into streaks of chrome and light.
The SUV fishtailed out of the loading bay, tires screaming as Reese disappeared into D.C. traffic. Our engine roared like it meant to tear the road apart.
“Miles, I need eyes,” I snapped into the comm.
“Traffic cams online,” he answered. “Reese just hit K Street—heading for the Potomac Bridge. Two black escorts converging on him from the east. Looks planned.”
Of course it was. Nothing about Reese ever happened by accident.
Julia braced herself against the dash, voice tight. “He’s not just running—he’s leading us.”
“Then let’s follow,” I said, throwing the vehicle into gear.
The city peeled by in a blur of sirens and reflections. The storm had turned the asphalt into glass, every passing light a distorted mirror. I caught glimpses of Julia in the window—jaw set, eyes locked ahead—every bit the detective who’d walked into hell and refused to blink.
“Keep your head down if they start firing,” I said.
She shot me a look. “You’re sweet when you’re bossy.”
