Naomi Carter posted a new article on her independent news site. The headline contained only one sentence: Holston's wall of silence is cracking. The article spread rapidly: photos of Brooks, the clip Omar saved, and the images of Maya being assaulted were stitched together and circulated across every platform. Beneath the post, thousands of comments demanded DOJ prosecution, demanded Holston's resignation, demanded Bravo Unit be dissolved.
Maya read the article inside the FBI conference room. She hadn't even put the phone down before Royce walked in.
"You did well," he said, closing the door. "But this is only the first layer. They're going to react violently. Bravo Unit has a lot more to lose before they sit still."
Maya gave a slight nod, feeling the weight press against her ribs. She knew Royce wasn't exaggerating: when a system is cornered, it fights with whatever it has left.
That night, Maya entered her office to gather documents for the morning briefing. The warm yellow light reflected off the wooden table, illuminating stacks of files filled with dense notes. She shut her laptop, took a long breath, and was just about to leave the building when a young agent rushed in, breathless.
"We have a problem," he said, dropping a packet of papers onto the desk. "Bravo Unit refuses to cooperate. And Hale slipped out of monitoring."
Maya's heart tightened like a cord had been yanked hard around it. "When?" she asked, her voice dropping.
"About an hour ago. He turned off his tracker and his phone. No one knows where he's going."
In Maya's mind, Brooks's face surfaced, then Omar's USB, Ali's recording, and Hale's furious eyes in the conference room the day before. When a man like him disappears from surveillance, it always means he's preparing for something desperate.