Chapter 20 Going Underground

Chapter 20 Going Underground
Ellis's POV

The tunnel system is more extensive than I remembered. My father's documentation was meticulous—maps showing every passage, every junction, every way in and out of the city's buried skeleton. We use them now to navigate toward the heart of the conspiracy.

"We need a plan," Lara says through the encrypted phone. "We can't just attack Burks without strategy. She's too protected, too connected."

We're walking through darkness lit only by flashlights, our footsteps echoing off concrete walls that haven't been disturbed in decades. Behind us, the city above continues its mundane existence, unaware that beneath its streets, its future is being decided by four desperate people and a woman in a surveillance van.

"Burks has to make a public appearance," I say, thinking out loud. "Somewhere we can monitor, somewhere we can document whatever she does next."

"There's a gala Friday night," Lara says. "The annual Architectural Society fundraiser. High profile. Lots of witnesses. Burks will be in attendance—she's a major donor."

The irony isn't lost on me. We met at a gala. We've conducted half our investigation at galas. Of course the endgame would take place at one too.

"We put a camera on me," I say. "I attend the gala, and I confront Burks directly. I record her admission of guilt."

"That's insane," Brandon says from somewhere behind me in the darkness. "She'll have security. She'll have her people there."

"Exactly," I say. "Which means she can't just eliminate me on the spot. She'll have to talk. She'll have to explain herself. And she'll incriminate herself in the process."

"Or she'll kill you and disappear into whatever network she's been part of," Lara points out.

"That's a risk," I admit. "But staying in these tunnels and hoping they give up is a fantasy. They won't give up. They'll hunt us until we're dead or until we stop them."

I feel Isla's presence beside me in the darkness, and without thinking about it, I reach for her hand. She takes it, and for a moment, the fear recedes enough that I can breathe.

"I'm going with you," she says.

"No," I say immediately. "You're too important. If something goes wrong—"

"If something goes wrong, I want to be there," she interrupts. "We do this together, remember?"

I want to argue. I want to protect her, keep her safe, ensure that at least one of us survives whatever's coming. But I've learned that Isla doesn't respond to protection. She responds to partnership.

"Together," I agree.

We emerge from the tunnels as night falls, surfacing in an abandoned building in the industrial district. Jensen has prepared clothes for us—formal wear, because we're attending a gala where the city's elite will celebrate architecture and culture while blood money buys another round of drinks.

"The camera is microscopic," Lara explains, handing me what looks like an ordinary cufflink. "Built-in microphone. It'll transmit everything to our van outside the venue. Whatever you capture, we capture."

"And if she realizes I'm recording?" I ask.

"Then you're on your own," Lara says bluntly. "We'll try to extract you, but I can't promise anything."

As I dress in the tuxedo—another costume, another role to play—I think about my father. I think about the years he spent trying to expose this conspiracy, only to be silenced before he could speak the truth. I think about Isla's father, David Cole, a man I never knew but feel connected to through blood and betrayal and the terrible weight of inherited secrets.

When Isla emerges in her dress—deep crimson this time, the color of blood and power—I'm struck by how beautiful she is. Not because of the gown or the makeup or the way her hair falls around her shoulders. But because of the determination in her eyes. Because of the courage it takes to walk knowingly into danger.

"You're staring," she says softly.

"I'm memorizing," I correct. "In case this is the last time I see you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true," I say. "After tonight, everything changes. Either we win and start running from a different set of enemies. Or we lose and—"

"We don't lose," Isla interrupts, stepping close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her. "We can't lose. Not after everything we've survived to get here."

I kiss her then, and it tastes like desperation and determination and the terrible knowledge that we're about to risk everything on a single roll of dice.

"I love you," I tell her. "I need you to know that. I love you beyond logic, beyond strategy, beyond any rational calculation of risk and reward. I love you."

"I know," she says. "And I love you too. Which is why we're going to survive tonight. We're going to walk into that gala, and we're going to bring Judge Hadley Burks down."

We leave the building as the city lights begin to twinkle to life. The gala is at the Metropolitan Grand, the same hotel where everything began with that first chance encounter between us. The same place where lies collided with truth and changed everything.

Jensen drives us to the entrance, and as we step out of the car, I feel the weight of what's coming settle on my shoulders like snow.

"Ready?" Isla asks, linking her arm through mine.

"No," I admit. "But I'm going anyway."

We walk into the ballroom together, two people about to start a war that might consume us both. But as long as we're doing it together, at least we'll do it on our own terms.