Chapter 270
Lance
The rage that swept through me was cold and clarifying. I didn't buy a single word of his performance. I stepped forward, close enough to see the calculation still lurking behind those exhausted eyes, and let my voice drop into something sharp.
"You weren't about to confess." I watched his face carefully. "You were panicking. I saw it—every time I got close to the truth, you didn't flinch for yourself. You flinched for someone else."
I let the silence stretch, let him feel the weight of what I was about to say.
"There's only one person who could make you that afraid, Thomas. Only one person you'd protect at the cost of everything." My gaze locked on his. "Felix."
His face went white.
"He did it, didn't he?" My voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Your thirteen-year-old son. He's the one who poured the oil on that road. Who killed my mother." I leaned in closer. "And you've been covering for him ever since. Thirty years of lies—not to save yourself. To save him."
For one beautiful, terrible moment, Thomas's mask shattered completely. His eyes went wide, his mouth opened on something that might have been a denial or a confession or just a scream, and I knew.
Then he caught himself. Pulled the pieces back together with visible effort. And laughed.
It was a broken sound, jagged and wrong, but he laughed.
"Interesting theory," he said, his voice flat and controlled. "Very creative. Your mother would be proud of your... imagination." He raised his cuffed hands toward Diana, the gesture somehow retaining its arrogance despite the steel binding his wrists. "Agent Rivers. I believe we're done here."
Diana's jaw was tight enough to crack teeth. She looked at Stone, at Thomas, at me. "Even if you're DHS," she started, but Stone cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Your boss," he said, "used to fetch my coffee. You want me to call him? Have him personally order you to release the prisoner?"
I watched Diana's face cycle through fury, helplessness, and finally resignation. She looked at me, and I saw the apology in her eyes before she even opened her mouth.
"Diana." I kept my voice gentle, even though everything in me wanted to tear the building down around us. "It's okay. You found the truth. That's more than anyone else managed in thirty years." I glanced at Thomas, let him see the promise in my eyes. "I'll handle the rest myself."
She exhaled hard, like she'd been holding her breath since Stone appeared. Then she reached for the cuffs, fingers shaking slightly as she worked the key.
"You won't get away with this," she told Thomas, and the venom in her voice could have stripped paint. "I'm going to keep digging. I'm going to find every piece of evidence you thought you buried, and I'm going to make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life in a cage."
The cuffs clicked open. Thomas rubbed his wrists, rolled his shoulders, and turned to Stone with a smile that was almost friendly.
"Old friend," he said, "your timing is impeccable."
Stone's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "This isn't the place for a reunion, Thomas. The Secretary is concerned about your... visibility. He'd prefer you keep a lower profile."
"The Secretary." Thomas's laugh was bitter. "You mean he's concerned about himself. About what I might say if I end up in a courtroom."
He started toward the exit, Stone and his men forming a protective corridor around him, and I felt Serena's hand tighten in mine so hard her nails bit into my palm.
But Thomas stopped. Turned back. Met my eyes across the space between us.
"You know what the worst part is?" His voice came out hoarse. "Watching you piece it all together. Seeing how brilliant you are—how relentless. Just like your father." He shook his head slowly, and something that might have been regret flickered across his face. "I'm tired, Lance. So goddamn tired of carrying this. Some nights I lie awake thinking about what it would feel like to just... stop. To tell you everything and finally let it end."
He glanced at Stone, then back to me, and the exhaustion in his eyes looked genuine.
"But I can't." The words came out flat, final. "The people I'm protecting—the position I'm in—they've made me your enemy whether I want to be or not." Another pause, heavier this time. "Whether that's the Secretary, or..."
He didn't finish. Didn't have to.
Felix. He meant Felix.