Addison gripped the plastic chair in Detective Hawkins’ office, her knuckles white under fluorescent glare. Jaxon covered her hands with protective warmth.

“Whatever bombs they drop in here, we survive together,” Jaxon declared with executive steel. “I’m finding Rose and helping her burn down every criminal who authorized those contracts.”

“You’d really ally with her?” Addison demanded, her voice cutting through sterile air. “After everything?”

“I’d ally with Satan himself to expose what Meridian Trust became,” Jaxon shot back. “Wyatt was right about everything. Those board members weaponized my father’s legacy.”

“Even if it costs you everything?” Addison challenged.

“Everything’s already cost,” Jaxon replied with brutal honesty. “Now we make their crimes cost them everything too.”

The door exploded inward. Detective Hawkins stormed through like an approaching hurricane, exhaustion carved into his weathered features.

“Hell of a night,” Hawkins announced, crashing into his chair with bone-deep weariness. “Processing the aftermath of your bank drama.”

“Give us the scorecard,” Jaxon demanded with corporate directness.

“Your military operative vanished completely,” Hawkins declared with professional frustration. “Firebird executed a perfect disappearance. Military training, tactical expertise. Gone without trace.”

Addison and Jaxon exchanged blank stares that revealed nothing about Rose’s escape.

“What about the psychopath?” Addison asked with careful control.

“Viper’s finished,” Hawkins announced with savage satisfaction. “Murder one for Wyatt Howell’s death. Attempted murder, armed robbery. Looking at the death penalty if the prosecutor feels ambitious.”

“Good,” Jaxon said with granite finality.

“What about Brick?” Addison pressed.

“James Thompson flipped completely,” Hawkins confirmed with bureaucratic pleasure. “Full cooperation, detailed testimony. House arrest and community service in exchange for burying Viper permanently.”

“Smart move,” Jaxon observed with tactical appreciation.

Hawkins leaned forward with predatory intensity that had crushed resistance from countless suspects.

“Now I want the real story,” he demanded. “No sanitized versions. What were their actual objectives? Who was Wyatt Howell? What’s Meridian Trust’s connection to systematic murder?”

“Wyatt was my fiancé five years ago,” Addison began with dignity that commanded respect. “He vanished without explanation. I thought he was dead until yesterday.”

“Military background?” Hawkins pressed with tactical hunger.

“Three combat tours, decorated veteran,” Addison confirmed with pride blazing through grief. “Until he discovered Meridian Trust’s assassination program.”

“Assassination program?” Hawkins repeated with sharp professional interest.

“Henderson Consulting,” Jaxon interjected with executive precision. “Shell company funding elimination contracts. Seven soldiers were murdered because they witnessed money laundering.”

“How many total victims?” Hawkins demanded.

“Seven soldiers and their families,” Jaxon replied with confession, threading his voice. “I signed authorization documents without understanding I was funding systematic murder.”

“You’re admitting conspiracy?” Hawkins challenged with prosecutorial intensity.

“I’m admitting criminal negligence,” Jaxon corrected with brutal self-assessment. “Following orders instead of asking questions that could have saved lives.”

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