Ethan stepped forward. This ends tonight, Greg. Greg chuckled.
Oh, I agree. But not the way you think. He nodded toward his phone.
You see, I’ve been watching your little road trip. The mountains, the river, that charming cabin. He turned the screen so Ethan could see.
A live feed Anna, asleep on the couch, a red dot flickering on the window behind her. Ethan’s world tilted. You son of a— Careful, Greg said softly.
That dot’s a scope. One wrong move, and the girl you care about so much takes the price for your righteousness. Jennifer’s voice crackled through the earpiece.
Ethan, what’s happening? I just lost the feed. Greg smiled wider. You should listen to her.
She’s a fine journalist. Shame she’ll never get to publish this story, Klein whispered. He’s bluffing.
He can’t risk, Greg turned toward him. You still don’t get it. I don’t care about risk anymore.
I care about control, Ethan’s mind raced. Every instinct screamed for him to act, but if he did, Anna could die. Greg stepped closer, his voice low and venomous.
You should have jumped, Walker. Would have saved us both a lot of trouble. Ethan looked into his eyes and saw nothing human left.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands. Okay, he said, you win for now. Greg smirked, unaware that Ethan’s smartwatch was already sending a silent signal.
Jennifer’s emergency trigger. In the cabin, miles away, the red dot on the window blinked out. Klein’s hidden defense system had activated the decoy protocol blinding the camera feed.
Back in the tower, the lights flickered as Jennifer hacked the internal grid. Greg frowned. What the? Every screen in his office came to life.
The video of Janelle Johnson appeared her dying confession filling the room. If anyone finds this, please protect my daughter and clear Marcus Ethan Walker’s name. Greg’s smirk vanished.
Klein whispered, there’s your light, boy. Sirens wailed outside. Greg turned toward the window, realization dawning too late.
The explosion of sound hit like thunder alarms blaring, shouts echoing through the marble corridors. Greg’s smug composure evaporated, as the monitors around him continued broadcasting Janelle’s confession to every major network feed Jennifer had hijacked. Her weak but steady voice filled the air, Greg Sanders has been laundering investor funds and framing Ethan Walker for crimes he didn’t commit.
For a split second, everything froze. Then chaos erupted. Klein reacted first.
He tackled the nearest guard before the man could raise his weapon. The gun fired into the ceiling. Sprinkling glass dust over the room, Ethan lunged for the second guard, landing a solid punch to his jaw.
The man went down, groaning. Greg stumbled backward, his phone clattering to the floor. You think this will save you? He hissed.
You think the truth matters? Ethan grabbed him by the collar, fury burning behind his eyes. It always does, Greg smirked despite the blood on his lip. You’re still the idealist.
The world doesn’t care about truth, it only cares about power. And I still have both. Before Ethan could answer, Klein shouted.
We need to move. SWAT’s inbound, and not all of them are ours. Uh… Jennifer’s voice came through Ethan’s earpiece, sharp and panicked.
Ethan, I’ve got the live feed running across every major outlet, but Greg’s people are tracing my location I’ve got maybe ten minutes before they cut me off. Get out of there, Jen, Ethan said, hauling Greg toward the elevator. Now, I’ll cover you as long as I can, she replied.
Klein slammed his fist against the elevator button. It’s locked, Greg laughed hoarsely. You didn’t think I’d let you walk out so easily? Ethan spun him toward the window.
Fine. We’ll make our own exit. He smashed a chair through the glass.
The wind howled, whipping rain inside. Far below, the city pulsed with sirens and flashing lights. You’re insane, Greg spat.
Ethan turned. No, I’m done being afraid. He nodded toward Klein.
Rope? Klein tossed him a climbing cable from his pack. Old habits die hard. They anchored it to a steel beam and clipped in.
Greg’s face twisted with panic. You’ll never make it down alive, Ethan stared at him. Maybe not but I’ll make sure you do.
He shoved Greg toward the window. Move. Reluctantly.
Greg stepped onto the ledge. The rain plastered his suit to his body. The night below looked endless.
One floor beneath them, security burst through the stairwell. Bullets shattered the remaining glass. Klein returned fire, forcing them back.
Go, go, go, he shouted. Ethan clipped Greg’s harness and rappelled down first, his muscles screaming. Glass cut into his hands.
Below, a dozen police cars had arrived but it was impossible to tell who was friend or foe. Halfway down, Greg lost his footing. He swung wildly, screaming.
Walker, pull me up. Ethan braced himself, tightening the rope. You’re going to face justice, Greg.
Not death. When they finally hit the ground, floodlights blinded them. Hands where we can see them, an agent barked.
Klein descended last, bleeding from a gash on his arm. Easy, he shouted. We’re with the Bureau Agent Harold Klein, retired, badge number 2000-146, Sanders is your man.
One of the agents, a woman with dark hair tied back stepped forward. Agent Torres. FBI.
We’ve been tracking the feed. The confession went viral. We have everything we need.
Greg collapsed to his knees, defeated. You can’t prove those files are real, he muttered. Torres held up a tablet.
We can and we did. The encryption came directly from SEC servers, your login, your timestamps. She signaled to her men.
Take him, as they cuffed Greg. Ethan finally allowed himself to breathe. The rain mixed with sweat on his face.
The city lights blurring around him. It was over, or so he thought. Jennifer’s voice crackled faintly in his earpiece, strained.
Ethan, they found me. His heart stopped. What? Static hissed.
Then her voice, weaker. Two men outside the cafe, I think they’re after Anna. Jennifer, Ethan shouted.
But the line went dead. Torres caught the change in his expression. What happened? They’re going after the girl.
Torres barked orders. Teams three and four, trace that call. Now.
Ethan turned to Klein. We need to move. Torres grabbed his arm.
Walker, listen to me, let us handle it. He shook her off. She’s a child, you think I’m going to sit here while they… Klein cut him off.
Torres, he’s right. We’ve gotta go now. Torres hesitated, then nodded.
Fine. I’ll coordinate backup. Minutes later, Ethan and Klein were back in the truck, tires screeching as they tore through the wet streets.
Ethan’s knuckles were white on the wheel. His mind replayed every second of that photo on the cabin door. The red dot.
The threat. The terror in Anna’s voice. Klein loaded his gun beside him.
Stay focused, son. Panic gets people killed. Do.
Ethan’s voice was low, trembling with fury. If they hurt her, Klein looked out the window. Then we’ll make damn sure they never touch another soul again.
They reached the outskirts of the city in less than thirty minutes. The GPS tracker Jennifer had rigged on her laptop pinged one last location, an abandoned textile mill by the river. Ethan slammed the brakes.
This is it. The building loomed dark and silent. Its broken windows staring like hollow eyes.
Rain pooled in the cracked pavement. They moved quickly, weapons drawn. A flickering light shone from one of the upper floors.
Voices echoed faintly. Ethan recognized one of them pierce. Get the kid in the van, he was saying.
Sanders said if the plan fails, we use her as leverage. Ethan’s blood turned to ice. He motioned to Klein and crept inside.
The air smelled of oil and decay. Water dripped from the ceiling. They moved up the stairs quietly, step by step.
From the second floor landing, Ethan saw her Anna, tied to a chair but unharmed, wide-eyed and trembling. Two men stood nearby, their attention fixed on the radio. Ethan whispered, on three, klinanod, one, two, before they could say three, a gunshot cracked.
The bullet hit the wall inches from Ethan’s head. Pierce stepped out from the shadows, gun raised. You never learn, Walker.
Ethan ducked behind a beam, returning fire. Klein flanked right, hitting one of the guards in the leg. Chaos erupted.
Anna screamed. Mr. E, that sound fueled him like nothing else. Ethan lunged forward, tackling Pierce to the ground.
The gun skittered away. They struggled, fists and rage colliding. You think you can save her? Pierce snarled.
You think you can change what’s coming? Ethan slammed his fist into Pierce’s jaw. I already did. Pierce spat blood and reached for a knife…
