Chapter 34
"Griff!" She tried to twist toward him, seeing blood pooling beneath his head, his body terrifyingly still.
"Sarah, we heard everything. Don't react. Don't let them know you have comms." Ronan's voice, barely a whisper in her ear.
"He's good," a contractor said, checking Griff's pulse.
They zip-tied her wrists while she watched the upload confirmation disappear from her laptop screen. All forty-seven payment streams had been redirected. The auto-trigger disabled. But had it worked? The financial architecture had been so complex, each account a different puzzle...
"Keep breathing," Deke's voice in her ear, using his counselor tone. "In for four, hold for four, out for four."
"Clear the room." A new voice, commanding. Familiar.
Senator Thomas Buckley entered, stepping carefully around Griff's unconscious form.
"Neutral face, Sarah. Show nothing," Maya coached.
"Sarah Winters." Buckley's smile was warm, grandfatherly, terrifying. "Fairly impressive, for a desk agent. You almost succeeded."
Sarah's heart stopped. Almost?
Buckley held up a tablet showing system diagnostics. "You completed ninety-seven percent of your upload before we stopped you. So close."
She kept her face neutral, but inside, relief flooded through her. He was reading old data. The last three percent had been the final accounts—the ones she'd redirected in those desperate last seconds.
"He's wrong," Finn whispered. "Upload was one hundred percent. He's looking at cached data."
"Nothing to say?" Buckley moved closer.
Sarah ignored him and glanced down at Griff. Blood seeped from his temple, his breathing shallow. Tank's tags pressed against her chest beneath her shirt, a reminder of another soldier who'd died for this truth. She forced her voice steady. "He needs medical attention."
"He’ll get it. I have plans for your boyfriend." Buckley gestured to his men. "Bring them both. Separately."
"No!" Sarah pulled against the contractors holding her. "Please, he needs—"
"Finish it!"
The words were barely a whisper, but Sarah heard them. Griff's eyes cracked open. He was trying to tell her something. Not about the upload—that was done. About something else.
Then she understood. The USB. Still plugged into the server.
As they hauled Griff toward the door, his body suddenly convulsed.
Not a real seizure—she was certain—but convincing enough that the contractors lowered him to the floor.
In the commotion, Sarah twisted, using her body to block the view as she knocked the USB with her hip.
It fell behind the server tower, disappearing into the mass of cables.
"USB hidden," she sub-vocalized, knowing the team would hear.
"Good girl," Doc's voice, warm and proud.
They dragged Griff out one door while contractors pushed Sarah toward another. Her last glimpse was of him being carried between two men, blood dripping steadily, leaving a trail on the concrete.
"We're tracking him," Ronan assured her. "Medical wing, third floor."
"Did you really think we didn't know?" Buckley asked as they marched her down a different corridor. "We've been watching since yesterday. Every move. Every plan. We knew you'd try for the server room."
Sarah stumbled, genuinely shocked. "Then why—"
"Keep him talking, Bear Spray," Maya advised. "Intel is gold."
"I needed to know what you knew. How you found the switch. Who else knows." Buckley smiled. "And now I do. Your virus targeted the financial protocols exclusively. Which means you found one of my systems, but not the other."
Wrong. She found the auto-switch. But had she really succeeded in destroying it? The fear of failure made her lightheaded. She fought through it. She had one mission now. Keep Buckley talking.
“What about Griff? He needs medical attention. You can’t just––”
"Your boyfriend will live," Buckley continued conversationally. "He needs to. Tomorrow, when the Knight Tactical team attempts their assassination, the famous Ghost will be the one who confesses. Under duress, of course. Brain damage from tonight's injury. Tragic, really."
"Stay calm," Deke urged. "Don't give him a reaction."
"No one will believe—"
"They'll believe what they see on live television.
A broken soldier, manipulated by terrorists, confessing to a plot against America.
" Buckley paused at an intersection. "You'll watch, of course.
Right before your unfortunate accident. The forensic accountant who knew too much, silenced by her own associates to prevent her from talking. "
They turned down a service corridor. Sarah memorized every detail—B-level, west wing, past the laundry facilities.
"Got your location," Zara confirmed.
The maintenance room was small, concrete, dominated by water pipes and electrical panels. They shoved her against a vertical pipe, zip-tying her hands behind it. The position forced her to remain standing, arms pulled back painfully.
"Maintenance room B-47," she managed to say as Buckley inspected her restraints.
"Recording everything," Finn assured her.
Buckley stood back, satisfied. "Tomorrow will be historic. The death of private military companies, the birth of a new defense paradigm. All thanks to you and Griffin Hawkins."
He left, the door slamming shut with finality. Darkness swallowed the room except for a sliver of light beneath the door.
"Sarah, we're here," Ronan said immediately. "You're not alone."
The tears came then, hot and desperate. Griff might be dying. They were both going to be executed tomorrow. And for what?
"Both systems are down. Buckley’s plan is dead in the water," Zara said, as if reading her thoughts.
Thank you, Jesus, she whispered silently. "But Griff..."
"Is tough as nails," Axel cut in. "I've seen him take a sledgehammer to the skull and walk it off."
"That's not true," Maya said.
"Fine. Okay, so it was a regular hammer," Axel admitted. "But still."
Despite everything, she almost smiled. Her fingers had gone numb, the zip-ties cutting off circulation. Every time she moved, Tank's tags shifted against her skin—a physical reminder of sacrifice and duty.
"We need to discuss tomorrow," Ronan said, his voice shifting to command mode. "Buckley's planning a public confession. That means cameras, media, witnesses."
"Perfect," Doc said. "The more public, the better."
"How is that perfect?" Sarah asked.
"Because we're going to turn his show against him," Finn said. "I've already got media contacts ready. Zara's preparing a data dump. The moment he puts you on camera—"
Light flooded the room again. Sarah forced her expression neutral as Buckley reappeared, this time with a tablet.
"Show nothing," Maya whispered.
"I thought you should see the schedule," Buckley said, holding up the screen. "Tomorrow, 3 PM. My closing address. You and Ghost will confess to plotting my assassination, how Knight Tactical was using you to infiltrate the summit."
Sarah kept her face blank, but her mind raced. The team had less than eighteen hours.
"After your confession, you'll try to escape. You won't succeed." His smile was cold. "Two terrorists, shot while fleeing justice. Tragic but necessary."
"You're insane," Sarah said quietly.
"I'm a patriot. And tomorrow, I'll be a hero." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Ms. Winters? That was clever, hiding the USB. We found it, of course. But clever nonetheless."
The door closed again. Sarah's heart sank.
"He's lying," Finn said immediately. "I've been monitoring their internal comms. No mention of finding any USB."
"Fishing expedition," Ronan agreed. "He wanted to see if you'd react."
Sarah slumped against the pipe, Tank's tags shifting with the movement. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Yes, you can," Doc said firmly. "You've already done the impossible. You stopped two assassination systems while being hunted by professionals."
"That was with Griff."
"And you'll have him again," Ronan promised. "We don't leave people behind. Ever."
"Even if it means walking into Buckley's trap?" Sarah asked.
"Especially then," Deke said. "That's what family does."
Family. In the darkness, tied to a pipe, Tank's tags against her heart and Griff's blood probably still on her clothes, Sarah finally understood what that meant.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Save it for after," Ronan said. "When we're all drinking Doc's terrible coffee."
"My coffee is excellent," Doc protested.
"See?" Izzy laughed. "Only family lies about Doc's coffee."
Sarah closed her eyes, fingers numb, body aching, but spirit somehow stronger. Tank's sacrifice hadn't been in vain. Griff's injury hadn't been for nothing. And tomorrow, when Buckley tried to use them as propaganda, he'd learn what happened when you threatened Knight Tactical's family.
"Ronan?" she said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Get me out of here. I want to see Griff before... before tomorrow."
"Count on it," he promised. "Rest now. We've got watch."
She finally found the words to pray:
Thank You for this family. For Tank's sacrifice that started this. For Griff's courage that continued it. For these voices in the dark that won't let me give up. Give us all strength for tomorrow. And please... let Griff be okay.
"Amen," Deke said softly, and Sarah realized she'd prayed aloud.
"Amen," came from multiple voices.
Even zip-tied in the dark, she had never felt less alone.