Page 6 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal

Pure, undiluted hatred radiated from him in waves, though his expression remained impassive.It lasted only seconds before he mastered it, but it was enough to send a chill down Sabrina’s spine.

“Mr.Cameron—” she began.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice tightly controlled.“Not here.”

Mitchell was making his way deeper into the room, greeting hospital board members with practiced charm.He hadn’t noticed them yet, but would soon if they remained where they were.

As if sensing her hesitation, Cameron leaned closer.“You’ve been asking dangerous questions, Dr.Wells.The kind that get people killed.I can help you find answers, but not if you’re dead.”

The directness of his statement should have seemed melodramatic, but something in his eyes—something cold and knowing—told Sabrina he wasn’t exaggerating.

“The east terrace,” she said, making a decision.“Five minutes.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly and turned away, moving smoothly through the crowd in the opposite direction from Mitchell.Sabrina watched him go, wondering if she’d just made a terrible mistake.

She circulated for exactly four minutes, making brief, meaningless conversation with donors while her mind raced through possibilities.Cameron knew things he shouldn’t know—about her research, about the connections she’d painstakingly uncovered.Either he was part of what she was investigating, or he was conducting his own parallel inquiry.Neither option was particularly reassuring.

Excusing herself, she slipped through the French doors onto the east terrace.The night air hit her like a blessing after the stifling heat of the crowded ballroom, the sounds of the gala muffled by thick glass.Dallas sprawled below, a tapestry of lights against the velvet darkness.

“Careful.”Cameron’s voice came from the shadows to her right.“Stay where you can be seen from inside.Mitchell has men watching you.”

Sabrina fought the instinct to turn toward his voice, instead moving to the stone balustrade as if admiring the view.“You seem to know a lot about Senator Mitchell.”

“More than most.”He moved to stand beside her, maintaining a proper distance that would appear conversational to anyone observing from inside.“And not nearly enough.”

“Why are you here, Mr.Cameron?What’s your interest in my research?”

“Mitchell is conducting illegal bioweapon research through BioGenix,” he said without preamble.“Your patients were collateral damage—lab workers exposed during testing.The symptoms you documented match a weaponized toxin designed to mimic a hemorrhagic fever but leave no trace in conventional toxicology screens.”

Sabrina’s breath caught.It was the confirmation she’d been seeking for months, delivered matter-of-factly by a stranger at a charity gala.

“How do you know this?”she demanded.

“Because my team has been tracking Mitchell’s operations for years,” he said.“We have the financial trails, communication intercepts, shell company structures.What we didn’t have until recently was proof of the bioweapon’s existence.Your patients provided that proof.”

“And what does your team plan to do with this information?”She kept her voice steady, professional, though her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Stop him.Before he can sell the weapon to the highest bidder.”Cameron’s hands rested on the balustrade, his knuckles white with suppressed tension.“But we need your expertise to understand exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Sabrina laughed, a short, sharp sound without humor.“My expertise?I’m a trauma surgeon, not a bioweapons specialist.I’ve been stumbling around in the dark for months trying to make sense of what I was seeing.”

“You’re the only person who’s treated victims of this weapon and documented the progression,” he countered.“That makes you the world’s foremost expert, whether you want the title or not.”

She shook her head, processing the implications.“Even if what you’re saying is true, why would I trust you?I don’t know you.I don’t know what Dynamis Security really does.For all I know, you’re competing for the same bioweapon.”

“A fair point,” he acknowledged.“But consider this—if I wanted to silence you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

The matter-of-fact statement sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the night air.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“No.But this might.”He reached slowly into his jacket, telegraphing the movement to avoid alarming her, and withdrew an encrypted thumb drive.“Everything we have on Mitchell and BioGenix.Take it, verify it independently.When you’re ready to talk, call the number encoded in the files.”

She hesitated, then took the drive, concealing it in her clutch purse.

“Why are you really doing this, Mr.Cameron?Private security contractors don’t typically crusade against corrupt politicians unless there’s profit involved.”

Something flashed in his eyes—a glimpse of raw emotion quickly suppressed.“Let’s just say Mitchell and I have unfinished business.”

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