"I brought antiseptic and clean bandages," he said quietly, holding up the pharmacy bag. "For her ear."
Maya looked at him for a long second before answering: "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes," Holloway replied softly. "I did."
Monroe remained standing. "Mr. Holloway, this is still an active federal investigation."
"I understand." Holloway glanced briefly toward the television footage of Maya's arrest playing silently in the background. "That's why I came."
Nobody spoke. Finally, Holloway turned fully toward Maya. "I watched that footage replay six times on the drive over here."
Maya crossed her arms carefully. "And?"
"And every time, it got worse." The honesty in his voice made the room quiet again. Holloway slowly placed the pharmacy bag on the table. "Prestige Motors spent forty years selling an image of class and exclusivity." He looked down briefly before meeting Maya's eyes again. "Tonight, I realized we never learned the difference between luxury and dignity."
Maya said nothing, because part of her still remembered him standing silently in the showroom while strangers laughed at her.
Holloway seemed to understand that. "I should have stopped it," he admitted. "The second Hayes started screaming at you."
Monroe watched him carefully. "Instead, you let it continue."
"Yes." No excuse. No corporate language. Just guilt.
Before anyone could speak again, alarms suddenly chirped from several agents' phones at once. Monroe checked hers immediately, and then her face hardened.
"What happened?" Maya asked.
Monroe looked up slowly. "Sergeant Hayes is gone."
The room froze.
"What do you mean, gone?" Holloway asked sharply.
"He was placed in temporary holding downstairs while transport paperwork was being prepared." Monroe's jaw tightened. "Now he's missing."
Every instinct inside Maya tightened instantly. "He didn't run alone," she said quietly.
Monroe looked at her sharply.
Maya continued: "A man that scared doesn't escape without help."
One of the agents rushed back into the room. "Garage security footage shows an unmarked city vehicle leaving the underground exit four minutes ago."
Monroe grabbed her coat immediately. "Get every available unit moving!"
The agent hesitated. "There's more."
Monroe stopped.
"The recording leaked wider online." He turned the tablet screen toward them.
A national news broadcast filled the display. This time, the leaked audio played much longer. Victor Salazar's voice came through first—smooth and calm: "Everybody eats as long as everybody stays loyal."
Then Hayes' voice answered clearly: "And if somebody talks?"
Salazar laughed softly through the speaker: "Then they disappear before breakfast."
The room went dead silent. Maya felt the blood drain from her face—not because of the threat, but because Hayes suddenly made sense: the panic, the desperation, the humiliation inside the showroom. He had not only been protecting evidence; he had been trying to survive men far more dangerous than himself.
Holloway looked physically sick now. "Jesus Christ."
Monroe muted the tablet slowly. "That recording just changed this from corruption to conspiracy."
Maya looked toward the rain-covered windows again. Somewhere out there in the storm, Hayes was running, or being hunted—maybe both.
Her phone buzzed softly on the table: Evelyn Brooks. Maya answered immediately: "Evelyn."
"You need to listen carefully," Evelyn said without greeting. "The leak forced people into panic mode faster than expected."
Maya frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means some of the names on those recordings are already trying to erase liabilities." Evelyn paused briefly. "And right now, Maya, you are one of those liabilities."
The sentence chilled the entire room. Monroe stepped closer instantly: "We're moving her to a secure location."
"No," Evelyn replied through the speaker. "You're too late for that."
Before Monroe could respond, lights throughout the conference room suddenly flickered once, then twice, and then the entire floor went dark.
Darkness swallowed the conference room instantly. The television screen died mid-broadcast. The city lights beyond the windows vanished floor by floor across the federal building until downtown Atlanta became nothing but blurred storm clouds and emergency lights outside.
For one sharp second, nobody moved. Then every agent in the room reached for a weapon at the same time.
"Backup generators should have kicked in already," one of them muttered.
Agent Claire Monroe pulled a flashlight from her coat immediately. "Lock the doors!"
Another agent rushed toward the entrance just as emergency red lights flickered dimly along the hallway outside. The weak crimson glow painted the room in shadows and made everyone look slightly unreal. Maya's pulse hammered against her ribs. Evelyn's voice still echoed through the dead phone line in her head: You're too late for that.
Monroe turned toward Maya. "Stay behind me."
Before Maya could answer, a loud metallic slam echoed somewhere down the hallway outside, followed by shouting, then gunfire—not close, but inside the building.
Holloway went pale instantly. "Jesus..."
One of the agents pressed a finger against his earpiece. "We lost communication with lower security levels!"
Another burst of shouting echoed through the corridor. Maya felt the atmosphere inside the room transform completely: up until now, everything had still felt like investigation and procedure; suddenly, it felt like survival.
Monroe moved quickly toward the conference table and grabbed several evidence folders. "If this breach is connected to the leak, then somebody's trying to destroy records before federal lockdown finishes."
"Or recover them," Maya said quietly.
Monroe looked at her sharply.
Maya swallowed carefully. "You said the recordings named powerful people. If they think copies still exist inside this building..."