“I love you,” she said.
His throat tightened. “I know. I love you too.”
“Be careful.”
“Always am.”
The line went dead.
Wyatt set the phone down and stared at the screen. The case file was still open, waiting. He could close it now. Walk away. Pretend he’d never accessed it.
But his father wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t disappear just because Wyatt refused to cooperate.
And the body in the woods was proof of what happened to people who got in his way.
Wyatt dragged a hand through his hair, then started downloading the file. The progress bar crept across the screen. Five percent. Ten.
Every second felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
Outside, the night was quiet. No cars. No wind. Just the hum of the laptop fan and the soft click of the hard drive spinning.
Twenty percent. Thirty.
He thought about Sam. About Jo and Kevin and the way they’d welcomed him into the team without asking too many questions. About trust and loyalty and all the things he was about to destroy.
Fifty percent.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:Tick tock.
Wyatt’s hands curled into fists. He forced them flat against the table.
Seventy-five percent.
He could still stop this. Delete the file. Turn himself in. Tell Sam everything.
But then what? His father would just move to the next target. The next leverage point. And people would die.
They always did.
Ninety percent.
The download finished.
Wyatt sat back, staring at the confirmation message on the screen.
He’d crossed the line.
No going back now.
He closed the laptop and stood, legs unsteady beneath him. The kitchen felt too small suddenly, walls pressing in.
He walked to the window and looked out at the dark woods beyond his property line. Somewhere out there, his father was waiting. Watching. Planning his next move.
And Wyatt had just given him exactly what he needed to make it.
His reflection stared back at him from the glass—hollow-eyed, jaw tight, looking like a stranger.