Page 77 of Faron
It wasn’t the hours without sleep. Wasn’t the pressure. Wasn’t even Cyclone staring at him with that death-glare that made grown men confess to things they hadn’t done.
It wasAponi.
She walked into that room with her badge, her file, and a photo of the graffiti from the warehouse. Set it down in front of him.
“I saw what you did.”
His hands shook.
“She got out,” he said, voice hoarse. “The girl. She ran. I thought—I thought she died, but she didn’t. She got out on her own.”
Aponi didn’t move. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. I swear. She disappeared. Like a ghost.”
A beat of silence.
Then Aponi exhaled. Relief. Regret. Everything she’d been carrying, just…shifted.
But it wasn’t over.
Because whoever was paying Caleb… was still paying others.
And they wanted her gone.
By nightfall,the team was in L.A. We didn’t wait for backup. Wewerethe backup.
Tag briefed us in a secure conference room under a false dentist’s office.
“They’ve been moving money through four dummy corps. All tied to the same umbrella nonprofit Caleb worked under. One of them is still active—Bright Start Housing Initiative.”
“Sounds legit,” Raven muttered.
“It’s not. It’s a front. They lease fake apartments, file fake invoices, and the real money? Disappears into private accounts. One of them is offshore, traced to a man named Dominic Phelan.”
Cyclone’s jaw tightened. “That name rings dirty.”
“It should,” Tag said. “Phelan used to work in high-end security contracting. Disappeared after an embezzlement case. Reappeared here—quietly funding a handful of ‘charity’ programs that all lead to dead ends. Literally.”
I leaned forward. “What’s his motive?”
“Cleanup,” Tag said. “Caleb got sloppy. Phelan wants the problem erased before anyone connects the dots. Aponi’s the last living witness who can place Caleb at the warehouseandtie the money to Bright Start. I bet Caleb will be the next one to go.”
“So we take Phelan down,” I said.
River looked up from the laptop. “We found him. Office building downtown. Top floor. Cameras everywhere.”
“Armed?” I asked.
“Like a cartel boss on payday.”
I stood. “Let’s gear up.”
Thirty minutes later,we were on the roof across from the tower. Tactical gear. Drones. Suppressed rifles. The air was thick with the scent of city heat and something darker—justice coming for those who thought they were untouchable.
Raven checked his scope. “Two men at the elevator. Phelan just walked into his office. Alone.”
Cyclone adjusted the earpiece. “Let’s keep it that way.”
