"Simon also stated," Miller continues, his voice tight, "that he believes the fire was caused by faulty wiring in the east wing renovations. He claims Preston knew about the wiring and ignored it."
I stand up, rolling my shoulders to release the stiffness from sitting in the metal chair. "Simon is remarkably cooperative."
"He looked terrified," Miller mutters, almost to himself. He looks at me. "You’re free to go, Mr. Vance. The charges are dropped pending further investigation into the electrical contractors."
"Thank you, Detective."
I don't wait for Sterling. I walk out of the interrogation room, moving through the busy, chaotic bullpen of the precinct. My chest is tight, the adrenaline spiking sharp and fast as I head for the main exit.
I push through the glass doors, stepping out into the freezing morning air.
Grant is standing by the SUV parked illegally at the curb.
He opens the back door as I approach. "Sir."
"Where is she?" I ask, sliding into the back seat.
"The safe house in the West Loop," Grant replies, getting into the driver’s seat. "I moved her there immediately after you were detained. The penthouse is compromised. Preston sent a team of contractors to the building at three in the morning.They bypassed the biometric locks using a holding company override."
A cold, absolute fury settles over me.
Preston didn't even wait for the sun to come up. He realized I didn't have the flash drive on me when I was arrested, so he sent his men to tear my home apart looking for it.
"Did they find anything?" I ask, as Grant pulls the SUV into traffic.
"No. Miss Jennings secured the drive before we left." Grant looks at me in the rearview mirror. "She called Simon at two in the morning, Malcolm. She told him she had the original files, and she gave him until eight o'clock to recant the arson accusation, or she would send the ledgers to the SEC."
I lean back against the leather seat, staring out the window at the gray city streets.
I am going to let him think he won.
I thought I was protecting her by taking the fall. I thought I was shielding her from the fallout of my own family’s toxicity.
But she didn't need a shield.
She took the weapon I gave her, walked straight up to the man who ruined her life, and pulled the trigger without a single moment of hesitation.
"She leveraged him," I murmur, a dark, overwhelming sense of pride swelling in my chest.
"She terrified him," Grant corrects quietly. "Simon was crying on the phone."
The SUV merges onto the highway, heading toward the West Loop. The drive takes twenty minutes, but it feels like hours.Every second that I am not in the same room as her feels like a tactical error.
Grant pulls the car into an unmarked, underground parking garage beneath a converted warehouse building. The safe house is a completely off-the-grid location I use for high-risk extractions. Preston doesn't know it exists. The holding company doesn't have the deed.
I step out of the car before Grant even puts it in park.
I walk to the secure elevator, swiping my palm across the biometric scanner. The doors open. I step inside, hitting the button for the top floor.
The elevator opens directly into the loft.
The space is massive, industrial, and completely devoid of the sterile luxury of the penthouse. Exposed brick walls, steel beams, and heavy blast-proof windows.
Audrey is sitting on the edge of a worn leather sofa in the center of the room.
She is wearing her jeans and the heavy winter coat she arrived in. The duffel bag is sitting on the floor next to her feet. She is holding a mug of tea, staring blankly at the exposed brick wall.
She looks exhausted. The adrenaline crash has clearly hit her, leaving her pale and fragile against the harsh industrial backdrop of the safe house.
