Chapter 88 Havoc
Havoc
The door closes behind the Magnolia Ladies.
And just like that—
The air shifts again.
Back to heavy.
Back to sharp.
Back to dangerous.
No one laughs now.
No one breathes easy.
Because we all know—
That was the break.
This is the reality.
I don’t move right away.
Just stand there.
Listening.
Watching.
Waiting.
The CIA agents regroup near the center of the room, quieter now, more focused.
Less posturing.
More intent.
Good.
That means we’re getting somewhere.
Or they think we are.
“Alright,” I say finally.
The word cuts clean through the silence.
Every eye turns.
Mine land on the lead agent.
“You’ve got five minutes,” I tell him.
His brow lifts slightly.
“That’s generous.”
“It’s not,” I reply. “It’s all you’re getting before I start making decisions without you.”
That lands.
He studies me.
Then nods once.
“Fair enough.”
He gestures to one of his men.
A tablet appears.
Screen lights up.
Maps.
Routes.
Data.
And just like that—
The room shifts again.
Now it’s operational.
Now it’s real.
“This,” the agent says, turning the screen slightly so I can see, “is what you stepped into tonight.”
I step closer.
Briggs at my side.
Aspen just behind me—I can feel her there.
Not touching.
But close enough that it matters.
The screen shows a network.
Not simple.
Not small.
Sprawling.
Connections branching out across counties… states…
Even further.
My jaw tightens.
“Human trafficking?” Briggs mutters.
The agent shakes his head.
“Bigger.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear.
“Then say it,” I tell him.
A pause.
Then—
“Extraction pipeline,” he says.
The words settle wrong.
“Extraction of what?” I ask.
His eyes flick to Aspen.
Then back to me.
“People,” he says. “Information. Assets.”
There’s that word again.
Assets.
I hate that word.
“And Tank?” I press.
The agent exhales slowly.
Then taps the screen.
A new image appears.
A name.
A face.
I don’t recognize it.
But the reaction behind me—
Aspen goes still.
“What is that?” I ask.
“That,” the agent says, “is who Tank was trying to bring in.”
My focus sharpens.
“Alive,” I add.
“Yes.”
I stare at the screen.
Then back at him.
“And you lost him.”
His jaw tightens.
“We didn’t lose him.”
“He’s still out there?”
A beat.
Then—
“We think so.”
Think.
Not good enough.
“Define think,” I say.
The agent’s eyes harden.
“We lost contact two days before Tank went dark.”
That hits.
Because it lines up.
Too well.
“Tank found him anyway,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
The agent doesn’t answer right away.
Which means I already know.
“Something went wrong,” I finish.
His silence confirms it.
Behind me, I hear Aspen’s breath catch.
Quiet.
But I hear it.
Always.
“What does this have to do with her?” I ask, my voice dropping.
The agent looks at Aspen again.
Longer this time.
More deliberate.
Then back to me.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
No.
Not good enough.
I step closer.
Close enough that this isn’t a conversation anymore.
It’s pressure.
“You already know,” I say.
His gaze locks onto mine.
Unblinking.
Then—
“Tank’s grandfather,” he says.
Everything in me goes still.
Behind me, Aspen freezes.
“What about him?” she asks.
Her voice is tight.
Controlled.
But I hear it.
The fear underneath.
The agent’s tone stays even.
“He worked at the refinery,” he says.
Aspen frowns.
“That was years ago.”
“Yes,” the agent replies. “It was.”
A pause.
Then—
“That refinery,” he continues, “was one of the original access points.”
My stomach drops.
Access points.
To what?
I already know.
But I need him to say it.
“For the pipeline,” I finish.
He nods once.
Cold.
Certain.
“And you think he knows something?” I ask.
“Not consciously,” the agent says.
Dementia.
Fragments.
Memories.
Pieces.
And just like that—
It clicks.
They didn’t take him because of Aspen.
They took him because of what’s in his head.
Or what used to be.
Behind me—
“No,” Aspen whispers.
I turn slightly.
Her face has gone pale.
Shaken.
“No, he wouldn’t—he doesn’t even remember what he had for breakfast—”
“That doesn’t matter,” the agent says.
Wrong move.
I turn back fast.
“You don’t talk to her,” I say.
Low.
Deadly.
He doesn’t apologize.
Doesn’t back down.
But he does shift his focus.
Smart.
“What matters,” he says to me, “is that someone believes he knows something.”
And that?
That’s the real problem.
Because belief is enough to kill over.
To kidnap over.
To tear a town apart over.
“What kind of access?” I ask.
The agent hesitates.
Just for a second.
Then—
“Early system mapping,” he says. “Routes. Storage. Movement.”
My jaw tightens.
So the old man—
Even if he doesn’t remember—
Was part of the foundation.
Which means—
He’s valuable.
Still.
“Which makes him a target,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And her?” I press.
The agent’s gaze flicks to Aspen again.
Then back to me.
“She came back; they might have been waiting to see what would happen. She was married to Tank. I’m sure they think she knows where Tank put the evidence.”
That’s it.
That’s all he says.
But it’s enough.
Because that made her visible.
Connected.
Exposed.
My chest tightens.
I look back at Aspen.
Her eyes are on me now.
Searching.
Trusting.
Terrified.
And I make a decision right then.
Clear.
Final.
They don’t take her.
They don’t take him.
They don’t take anything from us.
Not without a fight.
I turn back to the agent.
“What’s the next move?” I ask.
His brow lifts slightly.
“You’re asking?”
“I’m not asking,” I say. “I’m deciding whether I like your answer.”
A beat.
Then—
“We relocate them,” he says.
No.
My expression doesn’t change.
But the answer is already there.
“No,” I say.
And just like that—
The line is drawn again.
Only this time?
It’s deeper.
Because now I know why they’re here.
And I know exactly what they want.
And I’m not giving it to them.