Chapter 10 - THE RECKONING5
Dad stared at me in disbelief. "Zoe... what are you talking about? I'm your father!"
"You're a criminal," I said flatly. "And so is Mom."
I pulled my phone out—the secure burner phone I had taken from Agent Reeves’ pocket back at the field office before Dad killed her. I had kept it hidden in my waistband the entire time.
I powered it on.
"Zoe, don't!" Dad gasped, trying to reach for me, but the pain in his shoulder forced him back against the pine bark with a cry of agony. "If you call them, they’ll arrest me! They’ll put me away for life!"
"Good," I said.
I dialed the three-digit number I knew by heart—not the local police, and not the compromised regional FBI line. I dialed the direct emergency line for the Department of Justice in Washington D.C., a number Agent Reeves had scribbled on a pad inside her pocket folder.
The line rang twice.
"Department of Justice, Special Operations Command," a firm male voice answered. "Identify."
"My name is Zoe Brennan," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the quiet, frozen forest. "I am seventeen years old. I am currently standing in the Black Ridge Forest with my father, Kevin Brennan."
Dad squeezed his eyes shut, a tear cutting a clean line through the dried blood on his face.
"Miss Brennan," the officer’s voice sharpened instantly. "Where have you been? We have a federal dragnet searching for your family across three states."
"I have the Vance Cartel ledger," I continued, ignoring his question. "I have the hard drive containing the offshore accounts, the names of corrupt federal agents, and the real estate laundering files. I have the entire network."
A pause on the line. The sound of rapid typing.
"Miss Brennan, stay where you are," the officer said urgently. "Can you give me your exact coordinates?"
"I will give you our location on one condition," I said, looking down at my father, then over at Becca, who was watching me with wide, silent eyes.
"Name it," the officer said.
"Full federal immunity and witness protection for my sister, Becca," I said, my voice unyielding. "She knew nothing. She did nothing. She gets a clean name, a safe house, and a life. Or I smash this hard drive into a thousand pieces and drop it down a mountain ravine."
A long beat of silence passed on the federal line.
"Agreed," the officer said firmly. "You have my word, Miss Brennan. Full immunity for your sister."
"We are two miles south of the Black Ridge peak, near the logging creek," I said. "Send helicopters. And bring medics. My father is wounded."
"Tactical teams are en route. Stay where you are."
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the mud.
Becca walked over to me, wrapping her small arms around my waist. I pulled her close, pressing my chin against the top of her head, feeling the warmth of her breathing against my ribs.
"What about you, Zoe?" Becca whispered softly. "What happens to you?"
I looked down at the silver hard drive in my hand, then at the thick fog rolling through the trees above us.
"I'm going to finish this, Becca," I whispered. "I'm going to make sure Mom and Dad can never hurt anyone ever again."
Ten minutes later, the distant, rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades cut through the mountain fog. Two massive black sea-stallion transport helicopters descended through the canopy, their searchlights washing over the pine trees in bright, blinding white beams.
Fully armed federal agents poured out from the trees, surrounding us with rifles raised, securing the perimeter. Medics rushed forward, throwing Dad onto a stretcher and beginning emergency treatment on his shattered shoulder.
As they loaded Dad into the lead helicopter, he turned his head toward me one last time. His single open eye wasn't angry anymore. It was hollow, exhausted, and broken.
"Zoe..." he called out over the roar of the rotor blades. "I'm sorry..."
I didn't answer. I didn't nod. I simply watched as the doors of the helicopter pulled shut, cutting him off from us forever.
An agent stepped up to me, throwing a heavy tactical blanket over my shoulders and handing a warm bottle of water to Becca.
"Miss Brennan?" the agent asked gently. "We need to secure the hard drive."
I handed him the silver box. He placed it carefully into a steel evidence case, snapping the latches shut.
"Where is your mother?" he asked.
I turned and looked back toward the rising column of black smoke miles away in the valley—the place where the cabin was burning to ash.
"She’s out there," I said, my voice steady, cold, and entirely devoid of fear. "She thinks she got away. She thinks it's over."
May you like
I looked the agent dead in the eye, the rain washing the mud from my face as the sun finally broke through the clouds above the mountains.
"Tell your director that I know where her second bank account is," I said quietly. "And I'm going to help you hunt her down."
