The Queens safe house was a small, red-brick house on a quiet street. Marcus parked the Impala two blocks away, his hand on the fake chip in his pocket—still rigged with a GPS tracker. Claire sat beside him, her dad's notebook open to a page marked "Chen's Safe Houses—Escape Routes."
Cole got out of the car, his hands shaking. "She's inside. Third floor. Window with the pink curtains."
Sophia stayed in the car, her switchblade in hand. "I'll watch the back. If you need help, yell."
Raymond walked to the front door, his hand on the pocket knife Claire had returned. "I'll kick the door in. You two go for Cole's sister. Marcus—watch Cole. He's still a snake."
Marcus nodded. He followed Raymond to the door. Raymond kicked it open, and they rushed in.
The house smelled like mold and fear. A staircase led to the second floor, and Marcus heard a woman's scream.
"Mia!" Cole yelled, running up the stairs.
Marcus and Claire followed. The third floor was a small bedroom. A woman—Cole's sister, Mia—was tied to a chair, a man in a black jacket standing over her.
"Cole," the man said, grinning. "Chen knew you'd bring them. He's waiting for you downstairs."
Cole's face paled. "You lied. Mia—are you okay?"
Mia nodded, tears streaming down her face. "He's been holding me here for weeks. Said you'd come."
The man reached for his gun, but Raymond tackled him to the ground. They rolled, Raymond's knife sliding across the floor.
Marcus grabbed Mia's ropes, cutting them with his pocket knife. "Go. Sophia's outside. She'll get you to safety."
Mia nodded, running down the stairs. Cole followed, but the man broke free from Raymond, grabbing a lamp and hitting Cole in the head.
Cole fell, blood streaming down his face. The man reached for his gun, but Claire grabbed the knife and threw it at him—hit him in the shoulder.
"Run!" Claire yelled.
They sprinted down the stairs, Cole limping behind them. Outside, Sophia was waiting, her car engine running.
"Get in!" she yelled.
They jumped in, and Sophia hit the gas. As they drove away, Marcus looked in the rearview mirror—Chen's men were chasing them, but they were too slow.
Cole leaned against the window, his head bleeding. "Thanks," he said, his voice weak. "I thought I'd never see Mia again."
Claire handed him a napkin. "Miller's men will meet us at the FBI office. They'll get you medical help. And Mia—she'll be safe."
Marcus checked his phone. Miller had texted: "Container seized. Coke recovered. Chen's on the run."
He smiled. "We did it. The coke's seized. Chen's gone."
But as they drove to the FBI office, Marcus's phone buzzed again. Another anonymous text: "Chen's not gone. He's at the docks. Final shipment. Tonight."
He showed it to Claire. Her face paled. "Who is this? How do they know?"
Marcus shook his head. "I don't know. But we need to check the docks. Just in case."
Raymond nodded. "Chen's a rat. He'll have a backup plan. Always does."
Sophia turned the car toward the Brooklyn docks. The night was dark, the stars hidden by clouds.
Marcus looked at Claire. Her face was determined, her hands tight on her dad's notebook.
They were tired. They were hurt. But they weren't done.
The docks were ahead. Chen was waiting.
The final showdown was about to begin.