Page 79 of Faron (The Golden Team #8)

Faron

C aleb cracked on the third day of interrogation.

It wasn’t the hours without sleep. Wasn’t the pressure. Wasn’t even Cyclone staring at him with that death-glare that made grown men confess to things they hadn’t done.

It was Aponi .

She walked into that room with her badge, her file, and a photo of the graffiti from the warehouse. Set it down in front of him.

“I saw what you did.”

His hands shook.

“She got out,” he said, voice hoarse. “The girl. She ran. I thought—I thought she died, but she didn’t. She got out on her own.”

Aponi didn’t move. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. I swear. She disappeared. Like a ghost.”

A beat of silence.

Then Aponi exhaled. Relief. Regret. Everything she’d been carrying, just… shifted.

But it wasn’t over.

Because whoever was paying Caleb… was still paying others.

And they wanted her gone.

By nightfall, the team was in L.A. We didn’t wait for backup. We were the backup.

Tag briefed us in a secure conference room under a false dentist’s office.

“They’ve been moving money through four dummy corps. All tied to the same umbrella nonprofit Caleb worked under. One of them is still active—Bright Start Housing Initiative.”

“Sounds legit,” Raven muttered.

“It’s not. It’s a front. They lease fake apartments, file fake invoices, and the real money? Disappears into private accounts. One of them is offshore, traced to a man named Dominic Phelan.”

Cyclone’s jaw tightened. “That name rings dirty.”

“It should,” Tag said. “Phelan used to work in high-end security contracting. Disappeared after an embezzlement case. Reappeared here—quietly funding a handful of ‘charity’ programs that all lead to dead ends. Literally.”

I leaned forward. “What’s his motive?”

“Cleanup,” Tag said. “Caleb got sloppy. Phelan wants the problem erased before anyone connects the dots. Aponi’s the last living witness who can place Caleb at the warehouse and tie the money to Bright Start. I bet Caleb will be the next one to go.”

“So we take Phelan down,” I said.

River looked up from the laptop. “We found him. Office building downtown. Top floor. Cameras everywhere.”

“Armed?” I asked.

“Like a cartel boss on payday.”

I stood. “Let’s gear up.”

Thirty minutes later, we were on the roof across from the tower. Tactical gear. Drones. Suppressed rifles. The air was thick with the scent of city heat and something darker—justice coming for those who thought they were untouchable.

Raven checked his scope. “Two men at the elevator. Phelan just walked into his office. Alone.”

Cyclone adjusted the earpiece. “Let’s keep it that way.”

We moved like shadows.

Down the fire escape. Across the service level. Into the building’s emergency stairwell.

Floor by floor, we cleared our path, disabling cameras and dropping security without a word.

Finally, the top floor.

Phelan sat behind a glass desk, sipping something neat, his phone to his ear.

Then he looked up and saw us.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Figured you’d come eventually,” he said calmly, setting the drink down. “You people always think you’re cleaning up. But this kind of rot doesn’t end. You cut off one head—”

“You’re not Hydra,” I said, stepping into the room. “You’re just a parasite who finally ran out of hosts.”

He smiled. “So what now? You kill me?”

“No,” I said. “We expose you.”

Cyclone handed me a flash drive. Tag had traced the money trail, copied every transaction, every fake housing record, every payment to known mercenaries—including one with Phelan’s signature.

I tossed it on the desk. “You’re done.”

Phelan stared at it.

Then Cyclone shot the laptop beside him, sparks flying. “That was a warning.”

Raven leaned in. “You don’t get another.”

We walked him out in cuffs.

No press. No fanfare.

Just justice, served cold.

As we loaded him into the transport van, I pulled out my phone and called Aponi.

“It’s done,” I said.

A pause.

Then her voice, steady but quiet. “Thank you.”

I looked at the skyline, thinking about how much she’d carried, how long she’d waited for the truth.

“No,” I said. “ You did it. We just made sure you walked out of it alive.”

She didn’t answer right away. Then: “I can breathe again.”

“You’re not done yet,” I said. “But now… you’re finally free to heal.”