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Eldridge’s eyes hardened. “Agent Landon?—”

“Why don’t we call legal right now? I’m sure they’d love to verify this warrant’s legitimacy.”

Eldridge pushed to her feet. “Go on. Call legal. Wake them. Nothing you say will change what happens next.”

She clicked her fingers at Pierce. He moved immediately, driving his shoulder into Kat’s chest, sending her staggering back against the wall. The woman slipped past in his wake.

Eldridge retrieved the warrant from the table and tucked it inside her jacket to the growing sounds of Kat’s life being taken apart.

Kat’s breathing shallowed. Her fists, clammy with sweat, curled at her sides. Every sound from another room landed like a slap—wood scraped, drawers yanked, fabric flung. She imagined Pierce’s meaty hands in her underwear drawer.

They were tearing through her life. Throughher.

“Boss!” Pierce’s voice boomed from the bedroom.

“Excuse me.” Eldridge started toward the hallway.

Kat moved faster, slipping past Eldridge and reaching the bedroom first. What she found made bile burn in the back of her throat.

Her dresser gaped, drawers overturned. Clothing scattered across the floor—her silk blouses, lace underwear, everything private exposed. They’d even pried up sections of her floorboard, leaving a dark hole in the hardwood like an open wound.

Eldridge entered behind her, breath labored. “Step back, Agent Landon. This isn’t your scene anymore.”

Kat didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her mouth was dry, her hands clenched into fists.

She’d been ambushed before. Interrogated. Watched men die. But this—this violation of home, of self—was different.

Pierce held up a portable SSD between two thick fingers.

Eldridge took it and motioned to Grant who provided her with a compact tablet. Eldridge connected the two. She studied the information, her expression unreadable. Kat caught glimpses of text, but nothing specific. What the hell was going on? None of this made any sense. She’d never seen that drive before.

“Agent Katarina Landon, you’re under arrest on suspicion of treason.” Eldridge’s voice was scrubbed of emotion.

“Treason?” Air deserted Kat’s lungs as the word detonated in her skull. Ten years of service, loyalty, sacrifice—annihilated by a single lie. “This is ridiculous.” She fought to kept her voice steady even as her world tilted sideways. “I’ve never seen that drive before.”

“Save it for your lawyer.” Pierce moved toward her, handcuffs already in his grip.

Kat’s hand itched to retrieve the gun at her back, then stopped. Three against one. In her own bedroom, and a warrant backed by planted evidence. No.

The smart play, for now, was compliance.

Besides, proving her innocence from inside a holding cell would be impossible.

She raised her hands, palms visible. “I’ll need to get changed.” She gestured to her damp shirt.

“Agent Grant will supervise,” Eldridge said, nodding at the woman. “You have three minutes.” Then she turned on her heel and left the room with Pierce.

Kat stepped into her walk-in wardrobe. Tossed sweaters and scattered lingerie covered the floor like debris from an explosion.

Grant positioned herself in the doorway, pale eyes tracking every movement.

Kat pulled off her damp shirt. The Glock’s weight shifted against her spine—too exposed, too risky with Grant’s predator stare cataloguing everything. She let the gun drop inside her discarded shirt.

Behind the hanging blouses, her fingers found the emergency phone taped to the back wall. One-handed, she powered it on while sorting through scattered clothes with the other.

Her thumb flew across the screen.

They’re coming for me.