Zayden’s POV
Time fractures into slow motion.
Dante's finger tightens on the trigger, Jocelyn's eyes meet mine—wide, terrified, silently screaming goodbye to our daughter and Eli.
The FBI is thirty seconds out. Might as well be thirty years.
I don't think, just move, launch myself between them as the gun goes off.
The impact hits like a sledgehammer to the shoulder. White-hot pain explodes through my chest, spinning me sideways. I hit the floor hard, blood spreading across expensive carpet in patterns that look almost artistic.
"Zayden!" Jocelyn's scream cuts through ringing ears.
Then the world detonates.
Windows explode inward, glass rains down like deadly confetti. The door bursts open—FBI tactical in full gear, red laser sights painting everything, voices shouting commands that blur together.
"Federal agents! Drop the weapon!"
"On the ground! Now!"
"Hands where we can see them!"
Dante's men go for their guns. Stupid, fatal mistake. FBI doesn't hesitate—shots fired, bodies dropping, the office transforming from business meeting to war zone in three seconds.
Dante freezes, gun still in hand, calculating odds that don't exist.
"Drop it, Caruso!" Agent Torres, voice cutting through chaos. "It's over!"
For one terrible moment, I think Dante might try anyway. Might go down shooting, take Jocelyn with him out of pure spite.
Then the gun clatters to the floor.
"Smart choice," Torres says, weapon trained center mass. "On your knees, hands behind your head."
Jocelyn drops beside me, hands pressing against my shoulder. "Zayden? Oh God, you're bleeding."
"I'm fine." The lie tastes like copper. Blood soaks through my shirt, warm and wrong. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm…" Her voice breaks. "You're an idiot. You could've died."
"Better me than you."
"That's not—" She looks up, screaming at someone I can't see. "We need a medic! He's been shot!"
Torres appears above us, still keeping his weapon on Dante who's now face-down, hands being zip-tied behind his back.
"Paramedics incoming. Hang on, Mr. Wolfe."
The room spins. Blood loss making everything fuzzy around the edges, but I keep my eyes on Dante, watching him being hauled to his feet, reading rights that won't stick because men like him don't stay arrested.
"You made a mistake," Dante says. Calm, conversation, like he's discussing the weather instead of facing federal charges. "Recording me without consent, entrapment. My lawyers will have this thrown out before arraignment."
"Your lawyers can try," Chen appears, holding up Jocelyn's necklace. "But we have you on tape threatening to kill a federal witness. Attempted murder of a cooperating informant. Illegal weapons. That's federal prison, Caruso. No bail, no deals."
His smile is terrible. "We'll see."
***
They were right. His lawyers are very good.
By the time I'm out of surgery—bullet removed, shoulder rebuilt with enough hardware to set off metal detectors permanently—Dante Caruso has already made bail.
Five million dollars. Posted by lawyers who appeared so fast they must've been on standby. Released pending trial with ankle monitor and travel restrictions that mean nothing to a man with Dante's resources.
"How?" Jocelyn demands when Agent Chen delivers the news. "He held a gun to my head, he shot Zayden. How is he walking free?"
"Connections, money. Legal maneuvering that would make your head spin." Chen looks exhausted. "But he's not free. He's monitored, restricted, and knows we're building a case that will bury him."
"Unless he buries us first." I'm propped against hospital pillows, shoulder immobilized, painkillers making everything soft and distant. "He knows where we live. Where Mia goes to school, where Eli—"
"Which is why you're entering federal protective custody." Chen pulls out documents. "Tonight. New location, armed protection, complete isolation until trial."
Jocelyn goes pale. "For how long?"
"Months, maybe longer if defense delays." Chen's expression is sympathetic but firm. "Dante made bail, but he violated conditions by threatening you. That gives us leverage, but it also makes you targets until he's convicted."
"Dante's already making moves. We've intercepted three separate contracts on your family. Professional hitters, Mrs. Wolfe. The kind who don't miss."
Jocelyn's hand finds mine, squeezes tight enough to hurt my good shoulder.
"When do we leave?"
"Two hours. Agents are collecting Mia and Eli now. You'll meet them at the safe house." Chen slides papers across the hospital tray. "No phones, no contact with friends or family, no electronic trail. Complete blackout until trial."
"Helena…"
"Will be told you're safe. Nothing more." Chen's tone softens. "I know this is hard, but Dante has eyes everywhere. One slip, one location leak, and you're dead before we can respond."
I sign the documents with my non-dominant hand. Letters shaky, barely legible, legally binding us to disappear into federal protection.
Jocelyn signs next, her hand trembles, ink smearing slightly.
"What about Eli's therapy?" she asks. "His grief counseling?"
"We'll arrange it. Secure location, vetted professionals." Torres collects the papers. "Everything you need will be provided. You just have to stay alive long enough to testify."
***
The safe house is in upstate New York. Three hours from the city, buried in woods that feel deliberately isolating.
It's nice, as prisons go—four bedrooms, full kitchen, agents posted at every entrance. But the windows are bulletproof, the doors reinforced steel, and cameras monitor every angle.
Mia's asleep when we arrive, exhausted from being pulled from Helena's in the middle of the night. Eli sits on the couch, still wearing his pajamas, clutching his tiger and staring at nothing.
"Hey, buddy." I lower myself carefully beside him, shoulder screaming protest. "You okay?"
"They said we're in danger, that we have to hide." His voice is flat. "Is this because of me? Because you're my dad?"
"This is because of me," I correct. "My father's mistakes, my choices. None of this is your fault."
He doesn't look convinced.
Jocelyn appears with blankets, wrapping one around Eli's shoulders. "We're safe here. That's what matters."
"For how long?" Eli asks the question we're all thinking.
"As long as it takes," I say.
But looking at the armed agents outside, the reinforced walls designed to keep danger out, I wonder if anywhere is actually safe.
Or if we've just traded one cage for another.
My phone—the secure one Chen provided—buzzes once.
‘Caruso violated bail conditions. Arrest warrant issued, but he's disappeared. Assume he's coming for you. — SC’
I look at my family—Jocelyn exhausted, Eli traumatized, Mia sleeping peacefully, unaware her life has been turned into a federal protection detail.
Dante's out there somewhere, hunting us, and bulletproof glass only stops bullets if you see them coming.