Chapter 46: The Counterattack (Nate POV)

Liam’s hand shook as he crumpled the note, his eyes blazing with anger and determination. My chest still ached from the injury, tubes still in my body, bandages tight around me. But despite the pain, my head was clearer than it had been since the shot. “Harper,” Liam had muttered, his voice low, his gaze hard as he showed me the paper. The message was simple, but it hit me like a punch to the gut—“You can’t hide forever. –H.” Harper had put me here, her men, her gun—and she was still out there, still coming for us. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done running, done hiding.

The doctors came and went, checking on me, poking and prodding, while the nurses ensured I was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as someone in my condition could be. Liam never left my side, sitting by the bed every moment he could, holding my hand, speaking softly to me whenever I was awake. His face was always tired, but he never once complained. I could feel his guilt radiating off of him, the weight of it pressing down on both of us, but I refused to let it break me. We couldn’t just wait around for her to strike again. We had to make a move.

The bullet had missed my heart by mere inches, luck, they said, but that wasn’t enough to make me feel safe. Harper’s aim was still on us, and I knew she wouldn’t stop until we were dead or broken. Liam barely slept. But we both knew we couldn’t keep running, couldn’t just hide. We had to take action. We needed to end this. And I needed to be the one to make sure that happened.

Finally, the doctor cleared me—weak, but good to go. My hands were shaky as I pulled on a shirt. My chest still pulled when I moved, my side sore from the wound, but I stood. My legs held me, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could actually do something. “We’re done running,” I said, my voice rough but resolute as I looked at Liam. “She’s free—Graham too. We end this, now.”

Liam frowned, his hands pausing in the middle of buttoning my shirt, his gaze focused on mine. His worry was evident. “Nate,” he said, his voice low, hesitant. “You’re barely up—you were shot. You’re still healing.” He paused, his lips tight. “She shot you, Nate—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted him, my voice hard and unyielding. “And she’ll do it again—or worse. We can’t wait around for her to make her next move. We’ve got the drive, Zoe’s out there, Talia’s back. We trap her, get her to talk.”

Liam’s eyes widened as he processed what I said. “Trap her?” he asked, his voice shaky. “How are we supposed to trap Harper? She’s smarter than that.”

“Confession,” I replied, my voice steady as I started to put the plan together in my head. “We record her—get her on tape, her voice, her words. She’s cocky. She thinks she’s already won. We use that. We make her slip.”

Liam stared at me, his hands dropping to his sides as he looked torn, unsure. “It’s risky,” he said, his voice soft, low. “If she catches on—”

“She won’t,” I said firmly, stepping closer, my confidence growing as I spoke. “We’ve got proof—she doesn’t know how much. We set it up—make her slip, make her make the mistake that will bring her down.”

Liam hesitated, but then nodded slowly, “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice soft but steady. “Who’s in?”

“Zoe, Talia,” I replied, my hands steady now, the adrenaline starting to kick in. “They hate her too. They’ll help.”

We left the hospital, the air outside colder than I remembered, but it felt good to be on my feet again, my legs wobbly but moving. Liam was on the burner phone, dialing Zoe first. Her voice was sharp and urgent when she picked up. “I’m in,” she said immediately, without hesitation. “Harper’s a snake, and I’m done with her.”

Talia came next, her voice rough on the line, still off-grid since the folder had surfaced, but alive and willing. “Count me in,” she said, her tone as determined as Zoe’s.

My chest warmed as I hung up the phone, my breath coming faster. We had a team, we had a shot. This could work.

We met at Zoe’s safe spot—a basement tucked away, dimly lit and cluttered with old furniture and equipment. My hands were shaking again as I sat down, Liam close by my side, Zoe pacing as she ran over the plan one more time, and Talia leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. My side ached, my shirt sticking to the bandage, but I forced myself to focus, keeping my eyes on them. “We lure her in,” I said, my voice low, clear. “Get her to the server room, where it all started. She talks, we record it—all over.”

Zoe nodded, her hands in her pockets, her face set in a hard expression. “She’ll bite,” she said, her voice sharp with confidence. “She thinks I’m scared—thinks you’re weak right now. She’ll underestimate us. She’ll gloat.”

“Yeah,” Talia said quietly, her voice rough, determined. “She’ll gloat, always does. I’ll rig it—mics, hidden. We’ll get everything.”

I looked at Liam, his face pale and drawn, his hands tight as he stood nearby, silently processing everything. I walked over to him, my voice soft. “You good?” I asked, my hand brushing his arm lightly.

He swallowed, his eyes meeting mine, his gaze steady but filled with something else. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “For you—I’m good.”

My chest tightened, but I squeezed his hand quickly, then let go. “Okay,” I said, my voice steady, gathering the energy I needed to push through this. “I’ll text her, bring her in. Liam, you’re with me—backup. Zoe, Talia—record it, get it out there.”

Zoe grinned, filled with dark satisfaction. “Let’s bury her,” she said, her voice louder, her confidence palpable. Talia nodded, her face set, pulling gear from her bag—small mics, wires, and other simple but effective tools.

We moved fast—server room, midnight, quiet. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands sweaty, but I kept it cool. My voice was firm as I gave instructions, trying to stay calm despite the rising tension. Talia wired us—mics under my shirt, Liam’s too—her hands quick and steady. “Clear sound,” she muttered, testing the devices, “If she talks, we’ve got her.”

Zoe prepped her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys, ready to send everything live—news, feds, anywhere it would stick. My chest buzzed with anticipation, my breath coming faster. This was it, the final move. There was no more running, no more hiding. Liam stayed close, his shoulder brushing mine as he watched me, his eyes steady. “You sure?” he asked, his voice quiet, just for me.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice low, meeting his gaze. “She’s done—we’re not.”

He nodded, his hand on my arm, warm and quick. “Okay,” he said softly, trusting me, trusting us.

I pulled out my burner phone, my hands steady now, my chest tight but resolute. I typed the message slowly, deliberately, every word clear: “Harper—let’s end this. Server room. Midnight.” My breath caught in my throat as I hit send, watching the message disappear into the ether. My heart was pounding in my chest, but there was no turning back now.

We waited. Zoe’s eyes were locked on her screen, Talia was checking the mics, and Liam’s hand brushed mine again, soft and reassuring. My phone buzzed. My breath caught as I opened it. It was from Harper: “See you there.”