When I Came Home After My Night Shift, Someone Had Ransacked My Apartment. Dad Said, "If You'd Helped Your Brother, None Of This Would've Happened." Then The Detective Called: "We Found Something On Your Bedroom Floor. Do You Know Who Left It There?"

My heart stopped beating for an entire second.

Oakridge Drive. My father's house.

Davis’s grip loosened as Dr. Alvarez stepped in with the local anesthetic, slicing between the fourth and fifth ribs to relieve the mounting pressure in his chest. A dark rush of deoxygenated blood sprayed into the canister, his oxygen saturation slowly creeping back up from the fifties.

"Pulse is stabilizing," Alvarez exhaled, sweat beaded on his forehead. "Good catch, Bennett. Claire? Claire, hand me the suture."

I was already backing away from the trauma bed.

"Sarah," I choked out, stripping my bloody gloves off and dropping them into the biohazard bin. "I need you to cover Bay One."

"Bennett, what are you doing? We have another rig five minutes out!"

"Family emergency," I said. It was the only truth that mattered.

I broke into a run, tearing through the double doors and back down the stairwell into the damp belly of the hospital. I burst into the abandoned basement office. Julian was pacing the perimeter like a caged animal, while Vance stood by the desk, casually inspecting the brass keys.

"They're at Dad's house," I gasped, doubling over to catch my breath. "Croft sent a cleanup crew to Oakridge. Dad was talking too much."

Julian’s face drained of every ounce of color. "What? No... Dad was working with Croft! Croft promised him immunity!"

"Croft doesn't leave loose ends, Julian!" I yelled, grabbing my coat off the back of the chair. "He’s wiping out everyone who can connect him to the forged surveys. If we don't get there right now, Dad is dead!"

Julian fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor, his hands tangled in his hair. "It’s over. We can't stop them. They have guns, Claire! They’re professionals!"

"Get off the floor," I snapped, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and hauling him upright. "You caused this. You dragged this filth into our lives. You are going to stand on your own two feet and help me save him, or so help me God, I will leave you behind to face Croft alone."

Vance stepped between us, pocketing both brass keys inside a slim velvet pouch.

"Your brother is correct about one thing, Claire," Vance said, his tone razor-sharp. "A direct assault on your father’s house is suicide. If Croft sent his black-bag operators, they will have the perimeter watched. If you drive up the driveway, you won't make it to the front porch."

"Then what do we do?" I demanded, tears of sheer fury and desperation burning my eyes. "Just let them slaughter him?"

"We don't go to your father's house," Vance said calmly, taking out his phone. "We bring Croft to his knees before his men can pull the trigger."

"How?"

"The master vault at First Fidelity closes its automated time-lock at five o'clock," Vance said, turning the screen of his phone toward me. It displayed an incoming call from an unlisted number: Special Agent Miller - Federal Bureau of Investigation.

I blinked. "Miller? Miller is a precinct detective."

"Detective Miller is an undercover federal agent with the Southern District's public corruption task force," Vance corrected, tapping the answer button and putting it on speaker. "He’s been waiting eighteen months for Marcus Croft to commit an overt act of federal wire fraud and interstate racketeering. The moment those two keys turn in vault four-zero-eight, Croft’s legal immunity evaporates."

"Miller," Vance said into the receiver. "The nurse has both keys. Inspector Davis is currently in St. Catherine's ER bleeding out, and Croft's wet-work team is closing in on Thomas Bennett's residence on Oakridge Drive."

Miller’s voice came back instantly, loud and decisive over the speaker.

"We have two tactical federal vans five minutes out from Oakridge," Miller said. "We can hit the house before Croft’s crew enters. But Vance—Claire has to bring that ledger directly to First Fidelity. Marcus Croft just walked into the bank lobby with three municipal attorneys. He’s trying to execute a fraudulent administrative seizure warrant right now to destroy the boxes."

"Understood," Vance said, hanging up.

He looked at me, his cold eyes gleaming in the dim green basement light.

"Julian," Vance commanded. "You drive the silver truck as a decoy toward Oakridge. Draw Croft's spotters away from the neighborhood so Miller's tactical unit can breach your father's house clean."

Julian swallowed hard, looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. For the first time in his pampered, protected life, there was no father to hide behind. No excuses. No sister to bail him out.

"Will... will it save Dad?" Julian whispered.

"It’s the only chance he has," I told him.

Julian nodded slowly, taking the keys to his truck from his pocket. He turned to me, his lip trembling. "Claire... I’m sorry. I swear to God, I’m so sorry."