Page 23 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal

“Because they wanted to send a message,” Atticus corrected, his voice hardening as the vehicle pulled away.“To anyone considering betraying Mitchell.”

“Or to anyone getting too close to the truth.”Sabrina met his gaze directly.“They know who I am.They know what I know.”

The unspoken question hung between them—how far would Mitchell go to silence her?

“We move to full containment protocol,” Atticus decided, his fingers flying over a secure device.“Dynamis headquarters lockdown.No one in or out without my direct authorization.”

His eyes found hers again, the intensity of his gaze leaving no room for argument.“And you stay under our protection until this is over.”

Any other time, she might have bristled at the command.But Sabrina had spent enough time in combat zones to recognize when tactical retreat was the only logical option.She nodded once, acknowledging the reality of her situation.

“Three days,” she said, looking at the flash drive now in Atticus’s possession.“Whatever is on there is our best hope of stopping Mitchell before the demonstration.”

“Then let’s not waste time,” he replied, his attention momentarily diverted by an incoming message on his phone.

Sabrina watched as he read whatever had appeared on the screen.For the briefest instant, something flashed across his face—not just anger or determination, but raw fear.It vanished so quickly she might have imagined it, but the rigid set of his jaw as he slipped the phone back into his pocket told her something had changed.

The stakes had just gotten higher, and Sabrina had the distinct impression that she was no longer the only one in Mitchell’s crosshairs.

As the armored vehicle wound through Dallas traffic, she caught Atticus watching her, his expression unreadable except for the intensity of his focus.Whatever had begun between them—whatever complications lay between past and present—would have to wait.

They had three days to stop a madman with a bioweapon.

And someone had just declared war.

ChapterEight

The Dynamis complex transformed before Sabrina’s eyes, morphing from the sleek glass tower that dominated the Dallas skyline into what she could only describe as a military-grade fortress.Steel barriers slid silently into place across floor-to-ceiling windows.Security teams materialized at control points throughout the building, armed with weapons that definitely weren’t standard issue for private security.

Sabrina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, acutely aware of the rumpled state of her silk blouse.The elegant outfit she’d worn to meet Cho felt like it belonged to another woman in another lifetime.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.She glanced down to see Richard Maitland’s name on the screen.

Administration approved your emergency leave without question, the chief of surgery had written.I’ve personally reassigned your surgeries and trauma rotation.Dr.Liu will cover your most critical patients.Take whatever time you need with your mother—the hospital will still be standing when you return.

A postscript followed:And Sabrina?This is the first time in five years you’ve requested more than a weekend off.Nobody’s questioning the necessity.Focus on family right now.

She felt a pang of guilt at the deception, but Richard’s genuine concern only reinforced why she’d become a doctor in the first place.If stopping Mitchell meant saving countless lives, the temporary lie was worth it.She sent back a quick thank you, adding that her mother’s condition was “stable but requiring attention,” maintaining the cover story while giving herself flexibility.

It was strange how quickly her carefully constructed life at Dallas Memorial had receded into the background.Just days ago, her surgical rotation and research had consumed every waking moment.Now they felt like someone else’s responsibilities—important, but disconnected from the urgent reality of Mitchell’s bioweapon and the growing danger surrounding her.

“Welcome to lockdown protocol,” Jade said as she led Sabrina through a series of biometric checkpoints.Her normally laconic demeanor had shifted to hyper-vigilance, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.Dressed in black BDUs, a fitted black shirt and combat boots that made no sound on the polished floors, she moved with lethal grace, absently touching the knife strapped to her thigh—a habit Sabrina had noticed each time they entered a new space.

“We occupy the top eight floors, with three additional sublevels beneath the parking garage,” Jade continued, pausing to remove the elastic from her wrist and gather her dark hair into a tight ponytail.“Once we’re sealed, this place could withstand a coordinated military assault.”

“Or a corrupt senator with government resources,” Sabrina replied, struggling to process the rapid shift in her reality.She twisted the small silver ring on her right hand—a nervous habit she’d developed during medical school and never quite abandoned.Twelve hours ago, she’d been Dr.Wells, respected trauma surgeon.Now she was a target with a price on her head.

The elevator required Jade’s handprint, retinal scan, and voice authorization before descending to sublevel two.When the doors opened, Sabrina stepped into a world she’d never imagined existed beneath the polished corporate veneer of Dynamis Security.

The command center spread before them—a cavernous space dominated by a central platform ringed with workstations.Massive screens covered the walls, displaying satellite images, security feeds, and data streams that Sabrina couldn’t begin to interpret.The August heat that had scorched Dallas aboveground was nonexistent here, replaced by the steady chill of climate-controlled precision that raised goose bumps on her arms.

Cal hunched over his workstation, brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers flew across three separate keyboards.

Across the platform, two men Sabrina hadn’t met before worked with identical intensity.One—tall and lean with close-cropped silver hair despite his relative youth—was directing a team via multiple comm channels, his British accent clipped and authoritative.The other—darker, with the weathered complexion of someone who’d spent years in harsh climates—manipulated what appeared to be a three-dimensional rendering of Mitchell’s estate, his long fingers moving with the grace of a concert pianist.

Eden and Nate stood examining a tactical map of Dallas, their movements synchronized with the easy familiarity of a couple who’d spent nearly eight years navigating danger together.Eden had changed into tactical gear—black cargo pants and a fitted tank top that revealed the upper edge of a puckered scar tissue on her chest.The ragged, circular mark was unmistakably a bullet wound, and Sabrina’s medical training instantly recognized the professional skill that had saved her life.

Sabrina found herself staring, unable to imagine surviving such trauma.Eden caught her gaze and held it, neither embarrassed nor defiant about the scar—simply acknowledging its existence as a fact of her history.

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