Chapter 8 – The Convoy
Forty-eight hours later, Isabella Rossi was no longer a suspect waiting for trial.
She had become the government's most valuable witness.
Her testimony had already linked Damian Voss to fraud, bribery, money laundering, and conspiracy. If she testified before the grand jury, years of his carefully hidden empire could collapse in a single day.
That was exactly why she would never be allowed to arrive.
At 7:15 a.m., three black SUVs rolled out of the underground garage beneath FBI Headquarters.
The convoy looked ordinary.
No flashing lights.
No marked vehicles.
Only a handful of agents knew which SUV actually carried Isabella.
Rebecca Collins sat beside the driver, watching every intersection.
"Any movement?" she asked through her earpiece.
"Negative," an agent replied.
"The route is clear."
Rebecca wasn't convinced.
Damian Voss had spent years staying three steps ahead of everyone.
People like him didn't rely on luck.
They relied on planning.
Across the city, Marcus stood beside Khloe's hospital bed.
She had finally been cleared to leave intensive care, though doctors insisted she remain under close observation at home.
Marcus helped her into a wheelchair.
"You should be thinking about baby names," he said gently.
"Not court hearings."
Khloe smiled faintly.
"I'll think about names after this is over."
David Sterling entered the room carrying his phone.
"The convoy left ten minutes ago."
Marcus understood immediately.
"Isabella."
David nodded.
"If she reaches the courthouse safely..."
"It's over for Damian."
Two miles away, traffic slowed unexpectedly.
Rebecca looked through the windshield.
Construction cones blocked part of the avenue.
"We didn't authorize roadwork."
The driver frowned.
"Neither did the city."
Rebecca's instincts screamed.
"Reverse."
Too late.
A delivery truck suddenly skidded sideways across the intersection, completely blocking the convoy.
At the same instant—
A black motorcycle roared out of a nearby alley.
Then another.
And another.
Four riders surrounded the SUVs.
Their faces hidden behind dark helmets.
One rider reached beneath his jacket.
Rebecca shouted,
"Move!"
The lead SUV accelerated, smashing through lightweight barricades.
The motorcycles followed.
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets shattered side windows.
Pedestrians screamed and ran for cover.
Rebecca grabbed Isabella, forcing her onto the floor of the vehicle.
"Stay down!"
The driver swerved sharply, narrowly missing another truck that had deliberately pulled into traffic.
"This wasn't random," he yelled.
"It's an ambush!"
Several blocks away, police sirens echoed toward the scene.
The attackers realized time was running out.
One motorcycle pulled alongside the rear SUV.
The rider raised a compact explosive device.
Rebecca saw it through the rear window.
"No!"
The device struck the pavement behind the convoy.
A deafening explosion tore through the street.
The blast flipped the last SUV onto its side, sending sparks across the asphalt.
Smoke filled the air.
Rebecca looked back in horror.
Agents were already climbing from the wreckage.
Alive.
But trapped.
The remaining convoy sped toward the courthouse.
Within minutes, heavily armed federal officers secured the underground entrance.
Isabella stepped from the SUV, shaking uncontrollably.
She looked at Rebecca.
"They're getting desperate."
Rebecca nodded.
"No."
"They're getting careless."
Meanwhile, inside his private jet hangar overseas, Damian Voss watched live news coverage of the explosion.
His assistant lowered a tablet.
"The witness survived."
Damian remained expressionless.
"And the agents?"
"Minimal injuries."
For the first time since leaving the country, Damian's composure cracked.
He slammed his fist onto the conference table.
"They're making me improvise."
He turned toward another man waiting silently near the door.
"If the witness cannot be stopped..."
His voice became dangerously calm.
"Then destroy the evidence."
The man asked only one question.
"The hospital footage?"
Damian smiled coldly.
May you like
"No."
"The flash drive."
