Page 141 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

“Trying to break in to the facility,” my father says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Yes, we know. And yes, we’re prepared for that. So, save us the bullshit and just give us the drive before I put a bullet in your head.”

Angela holds it out. “You mean this drive?”

He jerks, like he’s going to lurch forward and grab it.

She draws it back, tossing it from side to side in her hands and seeming to weigh her next words very carefully. “You know what’s funny?” she says, her heels clicking on the floor as she drifts toward us, as she positions herself between me and River and the gun. “It’s that you never even considered that Pascal’s team may not be here…” She pauses dramatically, taps the flash drive to her lips. “But rather somewhere else. Somewhere far more important.” She lifts her brow. “At least to you.”

My father scowls. “What?—?”

Her smile is just as cold as my father’s was earlier. “I found the archive and—” A pause as her phone beeps. She pulls it out of her pocket and then her smile grows. “Oh, look at that. Pascal and the FBI have managed to access it.”

My father steps toward her. “You fucking?—”

She drops the flash drive.

For one second, it remains suspended mid-air.

Then it hits the concrete.

Sergio dives for it, but Angela’s already lifted her foot. A heartbeat later, her heel comes down.

Crack!

“Bitch,” she finishes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But with the archive gone, I don’t think you’ll be needing your exit plan either?—”

Boom!

The gunshot is loud, echoing across the room.

I flinch, turning to cover River.

But my father wasn’t aiming for me.

Angela grunts and wavers but she doesn’t go down. Instead, she clamps a hand to her bleeding side and says, “You dumb, dumb fuck.”

He opens his mouth?—

And Attie’s voice explodes through hidden speakers. “Federal agents. Hands where we can see them.”

Chaos explodes around us as men rush into the room, shouting orders, exchanging gunfire. I drop to the ground, covering River’s body with my own.

The hail slows, quiets, and I twist to the side, the monster inside me flexing its claws just one more time.

“Angela, down!” I yell just as Sergio pulls out a knife and hurls it at Angela.

Too late, I launch myself at him.

River screams.

Old rage flares through me.

And that monster runs free.

I lift my fist and hit Sergio hard enough to drive him into the concrete. Then again. And again. My hand closes around his throat, starts to squeeze.

“Do it,” he wheezes. “Show her.”

I look up.