Miriam Olivetti stood at Dante’s bedside with her purse tucked under her arm. She bent carefully and kissed her son’s forehead, the way she had when he was a boy and nightmares came faster than sleep. “Try to rest,” she said softly. “You’ve done enough thinking for one night. I’m right upstairs if you need me.”
Dante’s hand found hers. “You need to sleep too. I love you, Mama.”
“I know.” She smiled through it. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“It’s almost morning already. Sleep in.”
She glanced once at Shannon, standing on the far side of the bed. “Take care of him.”
“I will,” Shannon promised.
Miriam left quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.
Shannon sat down beside Dante and laced her fingers through his. The city outside the window had begun to pale, the first gray hint of dawn creeping between the buildings.
Somewhere out there, engines were starting.
ROUTE TO MONTAUK, NY
On the road east, Chase vehicles moved without lights. SUVs spaced carefully apart. Radios silent. Teams inside them checked weapons and reviewed floor plans that ended with question marks. Drones lifted farther east, arcing toward Long Island. Somewhere offshore, a boat cut its engines and drifted.
Ian Chase watched the clock.
Mike Johnson checked his watch again.
Everything was converging.
DANTE’S SUITE
Dante stared at the ceiling, trying not to think. That was how it always happened. The pieces assembled themselves—quietly, mercilessly. “The device isn’t designed for remote detonation,” he said suddenly.
Shannon looked up. “What?”
Dante’s breath slowed. His voice steadied in a way that frightened her. “The shielding. The housing. The way Daniel guarded it.” He swallowed. “It’s a manual trigger.”
Shannon’s grip tightened. “Dante…”
He turned toward her. “Daniel was supposed to do it. That was always the plan. He was the expendable one.”
Her eyes widened as the implication hit. “But Daniel’s dead.”
“Yes.”
Silence filled the room, thick and absolute.
Dante closed his eyes, and for a moment, he could see it with perfect clarity—the cramped space, the switch recessed just far enough that no one could trigger it accidentally, the shielding designed to hold until the last possible second.
Someone had to stay. Someone had to finish it.
He opened his eyes. “It’s a suicide mission.”
Shannon stared at him. “Dante?—”
“The President is today’s opening speaker. That’s why today. That’s why the security footprint is what it is.”
Dante continued, eyes unfocused now, running a map only he could see. “The UN General Assembly doesn’t matter without him. Krueger isn’t after casualties. He’s after impact. Optics. He wants the image burned into history.” He swallowed. “The teams won’t make it back out in time.”
Shannon shook her head. “Chase is already deploying?—”
