MAYA
“Morrison was dead. We might be next. But I was too tired to be afraid anymore.”
The safe house smelled like stale coffee and industrial cleaner. Three days we'd been here, watching the world tear itself apart on a flickering television screen.
I sat on the worn couch beside Dominic, his ribs still taped, bruises blooming purple and yellow across his face. On screen, a tech billionaire in handcuffs did the perp walk, cameras flashing like strobe lights.
"That's number seventeen," Dominic said quietly.
Seventeen arrests. Senators, CEOs, hedge fund managers. The consortium was collapsing like a house of cards.
But so was everything else.
The news ticker scrolled at the bottom: "Tech stocks plunge 23%. Mass layoffs expected. Chen Files was blamed for market chaos."
I picked up th
