Chapter 12 – One Shot Too Late
Rain poured steadily over the city as the FBI safe house disappeared beneath a curtain of gray.
Inside the surveillance van parked two blocks away, Rebecca Collins studied the live feeds from more than twenty security cameras surrounding the property.
Every entrance was covered.
Every nearby rooftop was being monitored.
At least, that was the plan.
An FBI sniper suddenly spoke through the radio.
"Movement."
Rebecca reached for her headset.
"Location?"
"Building Twelve. Northeast rooftop."
She immediately pulled the camera feed onto the monitor.
A dark figure lay prone behind an air-conditioning unit.
A long rifle rested on its bipod.
The scope was aimed directly at the balcony where Khloe had stood only minutes earlier.
Rebecca's expression hardened.
"Take him alive."
On the rooftop, the assassin adjusted his breathing.
His finger rested lightly against the trigger.
Through the scope, Marcus stepped onto the balcony carrying two mugs of tea.
A second later, Khloe joined him.
The sniper centered the crosshair over her chest.
He exhaled.
Then—
A red laser suddenly swept across his shoulder.
His eyes widened.
Too late.
"Federal agents!"
The command echoed across the rooftop.
The assassin rolled behind the concrete barrier as gunfire erupted.
Bullets shattered rooftop vents.
Glass exploded across the wet surface.
He abandoned the rifle and sprinted toward the emergency stairwell.
Rebecca watched the chase through a drone camera.
"Seal every exit!"
Agents flooded the building.
The assassin descended three flights before finding the final door blocked.
He turned—
Only to find Rebecca standing at the opposite end of the corridor.
"Game over," she said.
The man glanced toward a broken window.
Without hesitation, he jumped.
Rebecca rushed forward.
The assassin landed hard on the roof of a parked delivery truck before crashing onto the pavement below.
He was alive.
Barely.
Agents surrounded him within seconds.
As paramedics stabilized his injuries, Rebecca searched his jacket.
She recovered:
A forged passport.
A disposable phone.
And a sealed envelope marked with a single letter:
V.
Hours later, inside FBI Headquarters, forensic specialists opened the envelope.
There was no handwritten note.
Only a printed photograph.
Marcus recognized it immediately.
It showed him shaking hands with Damian Voss at a charity fundraiser nearly a year earlier.
On the back, someone had typed one sentence.
The closest enemies are the ones you once trusted.
Rebecca looked at Marcus.
"What happened that night?"
Marcus studied the photograph.
His memory drifted back.
"It was the Children's Hope Gala."
He frowned.
"Damian introduced me to dozens of investors."
He stopped speaking.
Then something clicked.
"No..."
David noticed the change in his expression.
"What is it?"
Marcus pointed to a man standing in the background of the photo.
Half hidden behind a group of guests.
"I know him."
Rebecca zoomed in.
The man wore an expensive tuxedo and smiled politely toward the camera.
"Who is he?"
Marcus's voice became almost a whisper.
"My former chief financial officer."
David stared at the screen.
"The one who resigned last year?"
Marcus nodded slowly.
"He didn't resign."
"He disappeared."
Rebecca immediately ordered facial recognition.
Less than thirty seconds later, the computer returned a match.
The room fell silent.
The missing executive had been living under a false identity.
For eleven months.
As a senior financial adviser...
Inside Voss International.
Rebecca closed the file.
"So Damian didn't just infiltrate your company."
She looked directly at Marcus.
"He recruited someone from the inside."
Marcus clenched his fists.
"If he knew everything about my business..."
Rebecca finished the thought.
"Then he probably knew everything about your home."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
The enemy had never been watching from the outside.
He had been inside Marcus Thorne's world all along.
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And now, with Damian back in the country, the final confrontation was no longer a question of if.
Only when.
