Chapter 28

28

Gilded cages come in many forms, Alex mused, and Charles Winthrop’s Pacific Heights mansion was perhaps the most beautiful prison she’d ever infiltrated. As she swept into the opulent foyer, her designer gown whispering against marble floors, she couldn’t help but admire the irony. Here, amidst crystal chandeliers and the city’s glitterati, lurked a monster with a taste for both fine art and insider trading.

The air was thick with perfume, pretension, and secrets—a heady cocktail that set Alex’s senses on high alert. Somewhere in this sea of silk and diamonds was her quarry, a man whose Midas touch left a trail of broken laws and shattered lives in its wake. As the string quartet’s melody wove through the low hum of socialite chatter, Alex allowed herself a small, predatory smile.

Tonight, Winthrop’s carefully curated world would begin to crumble, one champagne flute at a time.

This world of wealth and privilege was achingly familiar, a ghost from her past life before her parents’ untimely death. She remembered countless galas just like this one, where she’d stood awkwardly in corners, feeling like a misfit in her own skin. But now, years later, she felt a surge of gratitude for never truly belonging. That disconnect had led her to a life of purpose, of making a real difference in the world.

She smoothed down her midnight blue gown, the silky fabric cool against her skin. But it wasn’t the breathtaking view of the bay or the elaborate floral arrangements that caught her eye. No, it was Jason in his perfectly tailored tuxedo that made her breath catch.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine reaching out, stroking his clean-shaven cheek. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly pushed it aside. Focus, Mendoza, she chided herself. You’re here on a mission, not a date.

He squinted at her. “What? Do I have spinach in my teeth?”

She laughed. “Relax, Army. You clean up nice.”

Jason’s lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile. “You sound surprised.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite suppress her own smile. “Just don’t let it go to your head. We’ve got a job to do.”

Once they got their hands on Winthrop—or “The Winster,” as his ultra-wealthy friends so charmingly called him—it would all be over. He’d crack under interrogation, giving them the pieces they needed to dismantle Seven-Five’s operations.

And possibly save Gravy’s father. If it wasn’t too late.

The thought should have filled her with relief, but instead, a knot of tension formed in her stomach. What would happen after? Would she go back to her team, leaving Jason and Redemption Creek behind?

Alex glanced around, noting the positions of their team members. Tai, Fenn, and Kate were strategically spaced throughout the room, blending seamlessly with the high-society crowd while maintaining a vigilant watch. Their presence reassured her, knowing they had skilled backup if things went sideways.

Meanwhile, outside in the nondescript van parked a block away, Cody sat hunched over an array of monitors, his fingers flying across multiple keyboards. Beside him, Paige’s eyes darted between screens, her voice a constant, soothing presence in their earpieces as she relayed information.

Alex knew Cody’s role was crucial, yet he couldn’t risk being seen. As a former deep cover agent within the Consortium, his knowledge of the organization’s history and its evolution into Seven-Five was unparalleled. But that same expertise made him a prime target—his face was likely burned into the memory of every Seven-Five operative.

“There’s our target,” Jason’s low voice interrupted her thoughts. “Two o’clock, by the ice sculpture.”

Alex followed his gaze, spotting Winthrop holding court with a group of adoring socialites. The man exuded confidence, clearly reveling in his status as the evening’s host.

She wondered how many of the smiling guests were Seven-Five agents.

“Ready to make his acquaintance?” Jason asked, offering his arm.

She took it, ignoring the spark that shot through her at his touch. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”

Alex marveled at the seamless communication flowing through their earpieces. The tech was impressive, leagues beyond what she was used to working with. Gratitude washed over her—for this team, for the circumstances that had brought her here. Even if those circumstances had initially made her want to throttle Jason for derailing her carefully laid plans with Gravy.

“Everyone in position?” Paige’s voice crackled in her ear.

A chorus of affirmatives followed. Fenn effortlessly charmed a group of silver-haired socialites near Winthrop, his easy smile masking his true intentions. Kate, resplendent in a curve- hugging gown, sauntered up to their target. Winthrop’s eyes locked onto her, completely captivated.

Alex tugged Jason towards a cluster of familiar faces, plastering on her best society smile. “Jason, darling, you simply must meet the Vandermeres. They throw the best summer soirees in the Hamptons. Seriously outstanding.”

As she made introductions, she maneuvered them into position, blocking Winthrop’s path to the nearest exit.

“Ready for some fireworks?” Paige’s voice held a hint of mischief.

Suddenly, the shrill wail of the fire alarm pierced the air.

The reaction was immediate and chaotic. Champagne flutes shattered on the marble floor as startled guests jumped. The string quartet’s melody devolved into a cacophony of screeching strings. Then silence. Women in designer gowns clutched at their Tiffany necklaces, while men in bespoke suits looked around in bewilderment.

“What is going on?” a portly gentleman sputtered.

A botoxed woman glared at their target. “Is this one of Winnie’s idiotic pranks?”

“We should leave,” Kate shouted, grabbing onto Winthrop’s arm, her voice shrill.

The crowd surged towards the exits, a sea of silk and taffeta churning in panic.

Paige started the countdown. “Lights out in three ... two ... one ...”

Darkness engulfed the room. Screams of alarm rose above the din of the fire alarm.

“Move, now!” Jason’s voice was low and urgent in her ear.

Alex’s heart pounded as they pushed through the crowd towards Winthrop’s last known position. Her fingers brushed against Jason’s arm, an anchor in the chaos.

“Ten seconds,” Paige reminded them.

Alex’s eyes, adjusting to the darkness, caught a glimpse of Winthrop’s portly silhouette. No agents surrounded him. So far.

She and Jason converged on their target, ready to snatch him.

Her fingers closed around Winthrop’s arm, her grip firm as Jason moved to flank him. The plan was working perfectly—until it wasn’t.

An ear-destroying bang echoed through the darkened room, followed by a blinding flash. Alex ducked, pressing her palms to her ears. She couldn’t hear. Couldn’t see.

A flashbang grenade.

That wasn’t part of the plan. Seven-Five was here, too.

The lights flickered back on, revealing a scene of utter pandemonium. Guests stumbled about in confusion, temporarily deaf, blind and off-balance from the sheer power of the sound wave.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the white flash burned into her retinas. The flash slowly faded, leaving her with limited peripheral vision.

An elderly woman sprawled on the floor halfway across the ballroom halfway between Alex and Winthrop, her pearl necklace scattered across the marble. In the confusion, someone had knocked her down.

The woman reached out a frail arm. “Help.”

Though Alex couldn’t hear beyond the painful ringing in her ears, the woman’s intent was clear.

She started toward the woman. She couldn’t leave an innocent person injured. But as she moved, a burly man in a too-tight tuxedo blocked her path. His eyes were cold. Predatory.

He stared her down and shook his head. No one was getting between him and Winthrop.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Winthrop being hustled away by two more men. Their carefully laid plan was unraveling.

“Jason!” she called out, ducking as the burly man lunged for her.

A blur of motion, and suddenly Jason was there, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw. “Go!” he shouted loud enough for her to hear over the ringing. “Help her. I’ve got this.”

Alex didn’t hesitate. She rushed to the fallen woman’s side, her mind racing. How had Seven-Five known? Who had tipped them off?

As she helped the elderly woman to her feet, supporting her weight, Alex’s eyes locked with Jason’s across the room. In that moment, she knew—their mission had failed.