ログインVictor's murder changed everything.The Wolf had killed him in a federal hospice with FBI agents outside. That level of access, that level of boldness, meant one thing: The Wolf was someone with serious power.Santos called three days after the autopsy results. "We need to talk. Not at FBI headquarters. Somewhere completely off the grid.""Why?""Because if The Wolf has access to federal facilities, they might have access to our offices. Our phones. Our systems. We can't trust anything."We met at an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook. Dante swept it for bugs. Marcus checked every entrance. Santos brought two agents he'd known for twenty years. People he trusted absolutely.The warehouse was cold. Empty. Concrete floors. Broken windows. Perfect for secrets.Santos spread files on a makeshift table. "Victor's death wasn't random. The paralytic used was military grade. Restricted access. Only certain people could get it.""Who?""Government contractors. Military personnel. High-level medic
Morning came too slowly. I'd barely slept, Victor's words repeating endlessly.*I know who The Wolf is.*At eight AM, Marcus, Dante, and I drove to Serenity Hospice. Santos met us there with two FBI agents."We've swept the building," Santos said. "No surveillance devices. No Covenant members in the area. It's as secure as we can make it.""That's not very reassuring.""It's the best we have."We entered together. The hospice was quiet. Sterile smell. Hushed voices. Death waiting patiently in every room.Victor's room was at the end of the hall. A nurse stood outside."He's awake. But weak. Don't tire him out."I entered first. Marcus and Santos behind me.Victor looked worse than yesterday. Gray skin. Labored breathing. The cancer winning fast.But his eyes were alert. Focused."You came.""You said you'd tell me who The Wolf is.""I will. But first, I need to know Sienna and Sofia are safe."Santos stepped forward. "They're in a federal safe house. Undisclosed location. Armed guards
Victor's sentencing was scheduled for Friday. One week after the safe house attack.I'd been dreading it. Another courtroom. Another judgment. Another reminder of everything that had been taken from me.The prosecutor called me Wednesday. "We'd like you to give a victim impact statement. Tell the judge how Victor's crime affected you.""Do I have to?""No. But it helps. Gives the judge context for sentencing."I agreed. But didn't know what to say.Victor kidnapped me. Caused my mother's death. Stole twenty-two years of my life.But he'd also helped destroy The Covenant. Testified against Cross. Tried to make amends.How did I weigh those things?Thursday night, I sat at the desk trying to write. Marcus watching."What are you going to say?""I don't know. Part of me wants him to rot in prison for what he did. Part of me is grateful he helped.""So say both.""Can I? Isn't a victim impact statement supposed to be about demanding justice?""It's supposed to be honest. So be honest."I
Sarah's funeral was on Tuesday. Small service. Just her kids, her mother, and us.Her children didn't understand. Too young. Why was mommy gone?I couldn't look at them. Couldn't face what my foundation had cost.Wednesday morning, I was at the office trying to focus on work. Anything to not think about Sarah.Emily burst in. Face white. "We have a problem."My stomach dropped. "What now?""The Bronx safe house. Someone broke in last night. Jennifer Davis was there. She's at the hospital."Jennifer. Twenty-eight. Escaping her husband. Had been with us for three weeks."How bad?""Broken arm. Concussion. Cuts and bruises. But alive."Thank God. Alive."What happened?""Someone bypassed security. Got past the cameras. Into her room. Beat her. Left a message on the wall.""What message?"Emily's voice shook. "You can't protect everyone."I grabbed my coat. "I'm going to the hospital."Marcus appeared. "I'm coming with you."Dante drove. Security team following. We couldn't go anywhere wi
Three days after Cross's sentencing, Santos called another meeting.FBI headquarters again. Same secure room. But this time, more agents present. Director Collins. Assistant Director Morrison. This was serious.Santos started without preamble. "We've identified The Covenant's new leadership structure. Cross had a deputy. Second in command. Someone who stayed in the shadows while Cross took all the attention."He pulled up a slide. No photo. Just a code name."The Wolf.""The Wolf?" Rachel repeated."That's how members refer to him. Or her. We don't know. Identity is kept secret. Even from most Covenant members. Only the inner circle knows who The Wolf really is.""How is that possible?" Marcus asked."Compartmentalization. The Wolf communicates through encrypted channels. Uses intermediaries. Never meets members directly. It's brilliant, actually. Can't arrest someone you can't identify."Director Collins spoke. "We've intercepted communications. The Wolf has been active since Cross's
Thirty days passed like a blur.The foundation kept growing. Seven hundred women on the waiting list now. Twenty-three staff members. Two new locations opening in Boston and Chicago.I'd started therapy twice a week. Working through the trauma. Learning to sleep without nightmares.Marcus and I were building something real. Slow. Careful. But real.And today: Cross's sentencing.The courthouse was packed again. Same courtroom. Different energy. No uncertainty this time. Just waiting to hear how long Cross would rot in prison.We took our seats. Marcus beside me. Sienna and Dante behind us. Rachel to my left.Cross was led in. Thinner. Gray. A month in maximum security had aged him.He sat at the defense table. Schaffer beside him. Still professional. Still trying.Judge Walsh entered. Everyone stood."Be seated. We're here for sentencing in United States versus Julian Cross. Mr. Cross was found guilty on twelve counts. I've reviewed the pre-sentencing reports, victim impact statements
The next morning, Santos called with news."Flynn's lawyer filed paperwork. He's officially withdrawing his plea deal. He'll face life without parole and testify against everyone. No immunity. No reduced sentence. Just cooperation.""Why?" I asked."His lawyer claims Flynn wants to show remorse. Pr
We arrived at the federal detention center at nine forty-five. Fifteen minutes early.The building was concrete and steel. Windows like narrow slits. Everything designed to keep people in.Santos met us at the entrance. "Flynn's in interrogation room three. He's agreed to full recording. No lawyers
I couldn't go back to the penthouse. Not yet. Not with Flynn waiting, expecting explanations I couldn't give without exposing that I knew everything.I sat in my car outside the storage facility. Boxes loaded in the trunk. And realized I had nowhere to go.No friends left after three years of isola
I woke up to the smell of coffee and voices in the kitchen.For a disoriented moment, I didn't know where I was.Then it came back. Marcus's loft. Safety. Allies.I checked my phone. Twenty-three missed calls from Flynn. Fifteen texts escalating from concerned to angry to threatening.The last one,







