Elena stares at the message, her composure finally cracking.“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Enlighten me.”
This is where she’ll ask for lawyers.
She drains her glass, then strides to refill it.
Adrien and I exchange a glance.Any minute now the FBI will likely approach.
With her back to us, she says, “Pierce was small-time.A pathetic little man who thought he could buy influence with Champagne and empty promises.”Elena’s voice takes on a manic edge, and with a full glass of whatever she’s drinking, she twists to face us.“You think he was the only one buying?You have no idea how deep this goes.Defense contractors, pharmaceutical companies, foreign intelligence services—no one wants this to come out.”
“Names, Elena.Give me names and this ends differently for you.”
Elena laughs, but there’s no humor in it.“Right.You probably expected me to ask for lawyers, right?No one’s going to leave me in a cell.”
If she thinks she’s going to walk scot-free, her ego is bigger than her profile suggested.
“The network doesn’t die with me—it just finds new leadership.There are people who won’t let this investigation destroy decades of carefully cultivated assets.Those men out there?The ones presumably listening who have surrounded us?Their bosses don’t want the truth coming out.”
She reaches for her purse, a Fendi bag sitting on the glass table beside the laptop.My hand moves instinctively to my weapon as she withdraws a small, nickel-plated pistol.
“Elena.”I draw her name out, tracking her line of sight to Adrien.“No one will get you off murder charges.”
“You think I’m afraid of prison?”She grips the gun with both hands, but instead of pointing it at us, she points it under her chin.
My stomach freefalls.
“I spent my career in shadows, controlling the power players, shaping history from behind the scenes.I won’t spend my final years in a cage.”
“Elena, you’ve planned your court case.You’ve already laid the groundwork.”She hasn’t.We’ll blow through her fabricated evidence, but she’s egotistical enough, she might buy my pitch.
Elena’s eyes meet mine, and I see not fear but calculation.“Tell Alicia Morgan she knows too much.Tell her the network remembers its friends—and its enemies.Oh, and your little company.KOAN, you call it.”Out the window a flash of the SWAT team approaching catches my eye—hers too.“They’re being watched.The Moores… Tell them they’re making enemies.”
FBI agents, guns raised, approach the front door.
We all clock them.
Elena’s grip steadies, resolute.
Before I can respond, before I can lunge forward or find words to stop her, she pulls the trigger.
The sound echoes through the glass house like thunder, and then there is only silence and the glimmer of moonlight over the water beyond.Blood splatters on the cream sofa and floor.Her lifeless corpse crumbles.The Burgundy topples, dark silk spreading across the rug, a stain that looks almost elegant until it doesn’t.
Ten minutes later, as federal agents process the scene and EMTs confirm what we already know, I stand beside Adrien on the deck, both of us staring out at the dark Atlantic.
“It’s over,” he says, but his voice carries no relief.
“No,” I reply, thinking of Elena’s final warning, of the names she didn’t give us, of the network she claimed would outlive her.“I don't think it is.”
She knew that Caroline Moore funds KOAN–that’s not easily accessible information.And it seems we’ve pissed off some people who don’t want a group like KOAN to exist.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call.Hudson’s name appears on the screen.
“You heard everything?”
“Yes.You good?”
“I’m good.”I look at Adrien, who has his arm around me, but his attention is directed to the swarm of FBI agents.“Noah did a security assessment for Alicia Morgan, right?”
