It was a dummy corporation linked directly to my own FBI task force.

“No,” I whispered to myself, staring at the screen.

Tony wasn’t just running.

He had already liquidated Vincenzo’s legitimate assets.

He was setting up a massive illegal arms shipment, and he was framing my team for it.

The paperwork showed authorization signatures from my own field director.

A shadow fell across the frosted glass of the office door.

The doorknob began to turn, slowly.

I reached for my gun, my eyes locked on the moving handle.

The shadow on the frosted glass stopped.

My breath hitched, my palms slick against the grip of my service weapon.

Beside me, the terminal screen cast a cold, flickering blue light across the room.

The doorknob rattled, then clicked.

I tightened my finger on the trigger, stepping to the side of the doorframe to clear my line of fire.

The door slid open, and the scent of wet wool and metallic blood cut through the stale office air.

“Elena,” a raspy voice whispered.

I lowered the barrel by an inch.

Vincenzo stepped into the room, clutching his left side.