Chapter 34 Impact Point
Sloane’s POV
The conference room was too bright and too high. Floor to ceiling glass showed Manhattan spread out like a map, all the places people were currently betting on whether I would crash or climb.
“… as you can see, the revised architecture segments critical assets into distinct trust zones,” I said, laser pointer steady on the slide. “Combined with the new physical protocols, our risk exposure is significantly reduced, even under state level pressure.”
Around the table, hedge fund partners and sovereign wealth representatives watched me with polite predatory interest. Expensive watches, bored eyes. Eli stood at the back wall with another Ward agent, Jace, in a suit that looked like it had been born bored. Jace was officially here to observe Eli’s performance. A live compliance report with a jawline.
One investor leaned back, steepling his fingers. “And the ethics review,” he said. “The media narrative. How confident should we be that you are… fully focused.”
There it was, dressed up in polite words.
“My board has engaged an independent review of governance,” I said. “I welcome scrutiny of our processes. But I will not conflate tabloid speculation with actual risk. My focus is exactly where it has always been. On the integrity of the systems we defend.”
I did not look at Eli when I said it. I did not need to. I could feel him there, solid as a wall.
When the meeting finally adjourned, hands were shaken, meaningless compliments exchanged. I stood in the hallway outside the private room, letting the air conditioner blow on my face for a second, when my phone buzzed.
In my ear, Eli’s voice was low. “Driver says the brake pedal feels wrong.”
Cold slid down my spine. “Define wrong.”
“Soft,” Eli said. “Too much give. We are checking.”
We walked toward the garage. Jace peeled off to escort the last stragglers, playing his role as the calm shadow. In the dim concrete underbelly, the Mercer sedan waited, sleek and black, looking harmless.
Eli went down on one knee beside it, slid under the front bumper with a flashlight. When he came back out, his mouth was a line.
“Cut brake line,” he said. “Badly patched. Someone wanted it to survive the drive out and fail under load.”
Translation. A tragic accident waiting to happen on the way home from reassuring the people who owned pieces of my company.
For a moment the room swam. How many vectors did they need. Garage. Safehouse. Cabin. Now the car.
“We switch to our SUV,” Eli said, already on the radio. “This goes to a secure facility. No one touches it until Diaz finishes crawling through it.”
The Ward vehicle felt like a tank after the sedan. High, heavy, windows tinted so dark the city turned into a smear of shadow. I strapped in, fingers numb.
We merged into traffic. For ten blocks it was almost normal. Too normal. Then a truck in the next lane surged forward and swerved. Hard.
It slid in front of us too close, brake lights flaring. At the same time, a car behind us accelerated, closing the gap.
“Of course,” I whispered.
Eli’s hands tightened on the wheel. The SUV lurched as he cut across an exit lane at the last second, metal whining under the shift. The truck’s horn screamed behind us. The car in the rear overshot, tires squealing.
“Hold on,” he said, and the world narrowed to motion.
He threaded us through a gap between a delivery van and a cab, took an off ramp too fast, used a side street like he had memorized it. My shoulder slammed into the seat as we banked; my heart slammed against my ribs like it thought it could escape.
For a few breathless seconds, all I could hear was the roar of blood in my ears and the quiet calm of his breathing as he drove. No panic. Just calculation.
When we finally lost the tail and slid into a quieter road, my hands were shaking so hard I could barely unclench them. Without thinking, I reached across the console and grabbed his.
He did not pull away. His fingers wrapped around mine like a promise. We stayed like that for blocks, the city sliding past, both of us pretending we did not notice.
Back at Mercer, I refused to go home. If they wanted to hit me leaving a meeting, they were not going to find me curled on my couch. I walked straight into the war room and told everyone to get in.
Ward. Harper. My best internal security people. Screens lit the walls with timelines and maps.
“We are past harassment,” I said, pacing in front of the displays. “This is coordinated across domains. Tech. PR. Physical harm. The story about me being distracted by my bodyguard is cover. What they want is plausible deniability when I end up in a ditch.”
Harper’s mouth was a thin line. “We will push law enforcement harder on the brake tampering and the truck,” she said. “But without plates and clear footage, they will drag their heels.”
“Then we do not give them a dead body they can regret slowly,” I snapped.
Later, in a quieter corner, the adrenaline finally had somewhere to go. Eli sat on the edge of a credenza, shoulder hitched, rolling it cautiously. Up close, I could see a darkening bruise where the seatbelt had bitten in when he jerked the wheel.
“Sit,” I said.
“I am fine.”
“You are terrible at lying,” I said, pulling open a cabinet for the med kit. “Sit down.”
He obeyed, eyebrows up. I stepped between his knees, close enough to smell sweat and leather and the faint hint of whatever soap he used. Pulling the collar of his shirt aside, I pressed gently around the muscle. He sucked in a breath.
“That is not fine,” I said quietly.
His hands came up, hovering at my waist for a second like he did not know what to do with them. Electricity fizzed under my skin. Our faces were entirely too close.
For a moment the room shrank down to his eyes on mine, my fingers on his skin, the awareness of how easily I could lean in and have his mouth again.
“I do not want the next time we cross that line to be right after someone tries to kill me again,” I said, half joking, half a plea.
His laugh was a low exhale. “Noted,” he said. “I would prefer better timing too.”
I taped the last piece of gauze down and stepped back before I forgot that timing existed.
An alert pinged on my tablet as I reached my desk. Calendar notice, flagged urgent. Full board meeting tomorrow. Agenda line. Discuss changes to security leadership structure.
I stared at the words until they blurred. Clear code.
They were not just gunning for my body.
They were coming for the one person I had chosen to stand between me and the fire.