Page 101 of Run While You Can
Including this one.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
Duke heardthree sharp raps against the door—firm, professional, unmistakable.
Conversation in the room instantly seized.
It had only been fifteen minutes since Andi had gotten that phone call.
If this was the feds, they were fast.
Matthew’s fingers froze over his keyboard. Mariella looked up from her phone. Ranger straightened from the wall, already reading the air. Simmy frowned, ever the empath. Andi met Duke’s gaze, the same realization settling between them.
Duke crossed the room and opened the door.
Two agents stood in the hallway, expressions neutral in the way that meant nothing good followed. One of them glanced past Duke, taking in the cluster of people behind him.
“Evening,” the taller one said. “We’re here to escort you to our field office.”
Duke stepped aside. “Come in.”
As soon as the agents entered, the hotel room suddenly felt smaller, tighter. One stayed near the door.
Andi moved to Duke’s side without comment. He felt the subtle tension in her posture, the way she squared her shoulders—not defensive, but ready.
“Are we being detained?” Duke asked.
“No. Not at this time.”
At this time.That phrase lodged deep in Duke’s gut.
“We’d like you to come down to the station,” the agent continued. “All of you. For formal statements.”
A ripple of concern moved through the room.
Andi spoke first. “We’ll cooperate.”
As they gathered their things, Duke felt the truth settle over him.
The narrative had shifted—and not in their favor.
As the team followed the agents into the hallway, a familiar sensation crept up his spine. The same one he’d felt before things went wrong.
The room was too cold—intentionally so.
Andi noticed it the moment the door shut behind her: the FBI seal mounted beside the observation glass, the hum of fluorescent lights, the faint sting of disinfectant in the air. A bare metal table was bolted to the floor, the chairs positioned with bureaucratic precision.
Everything about the space applied pressure without ever raising its voice.
Cold rooms made people uncomfortable. Uncomfortable people talked.
No windows. No clock. Just a single chair across from her and a recorder placed carefully between them.
They hadn’t put Duke in the room with her.
That, more than anything, told her how this was going to go.
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