Chapter 4 4

The knock was sharp. Three raps.

Addie smoothed her shirt. She opened the door.

Council filled the frame. He was too big for this doorway. Too big for this building. Even in a sweater, he looked expensive. It was the way he stood. Like he owned the air around him.

"Mr. Bartlett," she said. "Come in."

He stepped inside. His shoe stuck slightly to the linoleum floor. He looked down, disgusted.

He scanned the room. The peeling wallpaper. The mismatched chairs. The pile of plastic toys in the corner.

It's a set, he thought. She staged it to look pathetic.

"Where do I-" he started.

Addie's phone screamed.

It wasn't a normal ringtone. It was the emergency override she had set for only one person.

She grabbed the phone from the table. Her face went pale.

"Aunt Sarah?"

A scream came through the speaker. It was loud enough for Council to hear.

"Addie! Help! He's back! Rick is back and he's drunk!"

There was a crash. The sound of glass breaking. A man's roar.

Addie dropped the act. Her posture changed instantly. Her shoulders squared. Her eyes went hard.

"Stay with Leo," she snapped at Council, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Don't let him out of your sight."

She hung up. She grabbed her coat.

"I have to go," she said. She pushed past Council. She actually put her hands on his chest and shoved him aside.

Council stumbled back, surprised by her strength.

"Now?" he demanded. "Where are you going?"

To see him, he thought. The boyfriend. The real father.

Addie didn't answer. She was already out the door, her footsteps thundering down the stairs. She hesitated for a split second at the top of the stairs, a flicker of panic in her eyes. What if Miller comes now? she thought. No choice. Sarah is in danger. Sarah is my only witness. The calculation was cold, swift, and necessary.

Council hesitated for one second. He touched his earpiece.

"Team Alpha, a woman just left my location. Maintain visual but do not engage. Team Bravo, stay on the vehicle," he commanded, his voice low and controlled. He glanced back at the boy, who was now staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

He ran down the stairs.

Addie hailed a yellow cab. She threw herself into the back seat.

Council got into his sedan. "Follow that taxi."

They drove deep into Brooklyn. The neighborhoods got darker, tighter. The houses were old brownstones that had seen better days.

Council was on the phone with Dr. Aris, the top neurologist in the country.

"Yes, Mother's tremors are worse," Council said calmly, watching the taxi weave through traffic. "I want the new treatment protocol ready by Monday. Cost is irrelevant."

The taxi screeched to a halt in front of a narrow house.

Addie jumped out. She didn't pay. She just ran.

The front door of the house was ajar.

Council stayed in the car, a block away, watching the scene unfold on a tablet linked to his security team's discreet body cams. He signaled his bodyguards to stay back but be ready. He would not be seen here. He would not risk a single photograph linking him to this squalor.

He heard the yelling before he saw them.

"Where is the money, Sarah? I know you have it!"

Council zoomed in on the video feed.

The living room was a wreck. A lamp was smashed on the floor. A woman-Sarah-was cowering in the corner, bleeding from a cut on her lip.

A man, big and swaying, held a bottle of whiskey like a club. Rick.

Addie didn't scream. She didn't cry.

She reached behind the door and grabbed a baseball bat.

SLAM.

She brought the bat down on the wooden table. The sound was like a gunshot.

Rick jumped. He spun around.

"You again?" he slurred. "The little niece."

Addie stepped forward. She held the bat high. Her face was terrifying. It wasn't fear. It was pure, cold rage.

"Touch her again," Addie said, her voice low and steady, "and I will put you in the hospital. The police are already on their way."

Council watched from the safety of his car. He was stunned. The mouse from the law firm was gone. This was a lioness. And as she moved, he saw her instinctively shift her weight, a subtle, protective posture that seemed odd for someone about to engage in a fight.

Rick laughed. He lunged at her.

Council tensed. He spoke into his earpiece. "Prepare to intervene."

But Addie was faster. She dropped the bat and pulled a small canister from her pocket.

Hiss.

Pepper spray. Direct hit to the eyes.

Rick howled. He clawed at his face, stumbling backward, crashing into the wall. He slid down, sobbing.

Addie stood over him, chest heaving.