Chapter 28
IRIS
The Federal Building’s conference room smells like industrial cleaner and old coffee. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in a sickly pallor that makes the gray walls look even more oppressive.
I sit between Alexi and Dmitri, my hands folded on the table’s scarred surface. No laptop. No phone. Nothing but the knowledge in my head and the weight of Nikolai’s warning look when we entered.
Say nothing unless they ask you a direct question.
Across from us, three government officials arrange folders. The woman in the center wears a navy pantsuit and an expression that could cut glass. Gray temples, hard eyes, the bearing of someone who’s spent decades making people disappear.
“I’m Director Kendall,” she says without preamble. Department of Homeland Security. To my left, Deputy Director Walsh from the NSA. To my right, General Hawkins, JSOC.”
Nikolai doesn’t offer introductions.
Kendall’s mouth tightens. “You’ve put us in a difficult position.”
“Funny.” Nikolai leans back in his chair with the casual confidence of a man who owns the room. “I was about to say the same thing.”
“Morrison acted outside official channels.” Walsh adjusts his glasses. “His operation was unauthorized and unsanctioned.”
“How convenient,” Dmitri murmurs.
“We’re prepared to offer amnesty,” Kendal continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “Full immunity for everyone involved. In exchange for the complete Project Nightshade files and your cooperation in containing the breach.”
Alexi’s fingers tap once against the table. A warning.
“Define cooperation,” Nikolai says.
“You surrender all copies of classified material. You sign comprehensive non-disclosure agreements. You submit to debriefings regarding your acquisition of said materials.” Her gaze slides to me. “And Miss Mitchell provides detailed technical specifications of her encryption methodology.”
My stomach clenches.
They don’t just want the files back. They want to know how I got in and how deep I went.
“And if we refuse?” Nikolai asks mildly.
General Hawkins speaks for the first time, his voice gravel over steel. “Then we classify you as domestic terrorists in possession of stolen classified intelligence. We freeze your assets. We dismantle your operations. We prosecute everyone in this room to the fullest extent of the law.”
“Interesting definition of negotiation,” Alexi says.
“This is the negotiation.” Kendall folds her hands. “Consider it our opening offer.”
“I’d like to propose an alternative.” I keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “One that addresses your actual problem rather than the convenient scapegoat sitting across from you.”
Kendall’s eyes narrow. “Miss Mitchell—”
“Project Nightshade isn’t just compromised because I breached it.” I meet her stare. “It’s compromised because Sentinel Operations has been running black sites and targeted killings under your authorization for three years. Morrison wasn’t a rogue agent. He was cleaning up loose ends.”
Silence.
Walsh shifts in his seat. “That’s a serious accusation.”
“I have documentation. Financial transfers from Sentinel to Morrison’s offshore accounts. Kill orders signed by personnel operating under Homeland Security credentials.” I pause. “Including the one authorizing my parents’ deaths.”
Kendall’s expression doesn’t change, but her knuckles whiten against the folder. “We’re not here to discuss ancient history.”
“Ancient history?” Heat rises in my chest. “You murdered American citizens on American soil because they discovered your illegal black ops program. You framed it as a mechanical failure. You destroyed evidence. You used federal resources to cover up an assassination.”
“Unsubstantiated claims—”
“I have the traffic camera footage your people missed. The brake line analysis contradicts the official report. Morrison’s communications with his handler at Sentinel.” My voice hardens. “I have everything.”
General Hawkins leans forward. “If such evidence existed, why hasn’t it surfaced before now?”
“Because I wanted to understand the full scope before I acted.” I glance at Alexi, drawing strength from his steady presence. “Morrison came after me because I got too close. He threatened torture. He carved up my friend’s face.”
“This is ridiculous,” Walsh mutters.
“Is it?” I pull the single flash drive from my pocket—the one Nikolai reluctantly allowed me to bring. “This contains encrypted copies of everything I just described. Financial records. Communications. Kill orders. All timestamped and verified.”
I slide it across the table.
Kendall stares at it like it might explode. “What do you want?”
Before I can answer, Nikolai’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, and something shifts in his expression—satisfaction mixed with cold calculation.
“Interesting timing,” he murmurs.
Kendall’s jaw tightens. “What?”
“It seems we’ve just received additional leverage.” Nikolai turns his phone toward us, showing a news alert. “Senator Harrison’s offshore accounts. Deputy Director Walsh’s relationship with Sentinel’s CEO. General Hawkins’ involvement in unsanctioned drone strikes in allied territory.”
The color drains from Walsh’s face.
“How—” Hawkins starts.
“We have resources you clearly underestimated.” Nikolai sets his phone down with deliberate care. “Shall we discuss terms that work for everyone?”
Kendall recovers first, her composure snapping back into place like armor. “Blackmail won’t improve your negotiating position.”
“Neither will threatening people who possess information you desperately need to be contained.” Nikolai’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re simply establishing mutual incentives.”
“What guarantees do we have that you’ll honor any agreement?” General Hawkins demands.
“The same ones we have regarding yours,” Dmitri speaks up, his tone cutting. “Which is to say, none. Welcome to the beauty of mutually assured destruction.”
Walsh removes his glasses, cleaning them with shaking hands. “You’re talking about exposing classified operations that protect national security.”
“I’m talking about exposing murder disguised as policy.
” I lean forward. “Project Nightshade wasn’t protecting anyone.
It was eliminating witnesses to illegal activity.
My parents discovered evidence of arms trafficking through government channels.
They were patriots who believed in accountability. ”
“They were liabilities,” Kendall says flatly.
The words hit like a physical blow.
Alexi’s hand finds mine under the table, his fingers lacing through mine with bruising intensity. A warning—don’t react, don’t give them ammunition.
“So you admit it.” My voice comes out steady despite the rage burning through my chest. “You authorized their execution.”
“I admit nothing.” Kendall’s expression remains carved from ice. “But hypothetically, individuals who compromise national security operations face consequences.”
“Like sixteen-year-old girls trapped in cars, listening to their mothers bleed out?” Heat floods my face. “That’s your definition of consequences?”
“Miss Mitchell—”
The conference room door explodes inward.
Glass shatters across the table as Erik rolls to his feet, weapon already drawn. Dmitri moves with identical precision, positioning himself between the threat and his brothers.
A man in tactical gear stumbles through the doorway, blood spreading across his shoulder. He raises a pistol with trembling hands.
“Nobody moves.”
I recognize the voice from Morrison’s communications. Jenkins—Sentinel’s field operative who handled the Frankfurt asset deployment.
“Jenkins.” Kendall rises slowly. “Stand down.”
“Fuck that.” He swings the weapon toward her. “You were going to burn us. Trade Sentinel for immunity.”
“That’s not—”
“I heard everything.” Spittle flies from his mouth. “Morrison’s dead because of you. Because you couldn’t contain one fucking hacker.”
Alexi’s grip tightens on my hand, keeping me anchored.
Jenkins’ finger twitches on the trigger, and the world narrows to that single point of pressure.
“Easy.” General Hawkins keeps his hands visible. “Put the weapon down.”
“You think I’m stupid?” Jenkins’ eyes are wild, unfocused. Blood soaks through his tactical vest. “Morrison promised protection. He promised we’d be covered if things went sideways.”
“Morrison’s dead,” Walsh says carefully. “He can’t fulfill those promises.”
“Because of her.” The pistol swings toward me.
Alexi shifts, angling his body between us. Erik moves fractionally closer, evaluating angles, calculating trajectories.
“She breached classified systems. She stole government property. She killed a federal agent.” Jenkins’ breathing comes in ragged gasps. “And you’re sitting here negotiating like she’s got leverage.”
“The situation is more complex than—” Kendall starts.
“Shut the fuck up.” He aims at her again. “You were going to sacrifice everyone at Sentinel to save your careers. I heard you planning it.”
My pulse hammers against my ribs. Jenkins is bleeding out, probably concussed, definitely irrational. The combination makes him exponentially more dangerous.
“Listen to me.” I keep my voice level. “Morrison tortured my friend. He held me at gunpoint.”
“Because you wouldn’t stop digging.” His focus snaps back to me. “You couldn’t leave it alone. Your parents were handled years ago, but you had to keep pushing.”
White-hot rage floods through me. “Handled? You mean murdered.”
“They knew too much.” He shrugs, the movement making him sway. “Same as you. Same as Morrison now. We’re all just loose ends waiting to be tied off.”
Dmitri’s hand disappears beneath the table. Erik’s weight shifts almost imperceptibly toward his right side—his shooting stance.
“Nobody has to die today,” Nikolai says with dangerous calm. “Lower the weapon. We can discuss—”
“Discussion is what got us here.” Jenkins laughs, the sound wet and broken. “You people and your negotiations. Your leverage. Your mutually assured destruction.” He cocks the hammer. “How about some actual destruction instead?”
The fluorescent lights reflect off the barrel as it centers on my chest.