The Los Angeles airport tarmac smelled like jet fuel and anticipation. Marcus sprinted toward the rental car, his heart pounding—Miller had texted 10 minutes ago: "Syndicate men spotted near Chen's Kitchen. Your mom's safe, but they're watching the restaurant." Claire ran beside him, her dad's notebook clutched so tight her knuckles whitened, while Raymond and Sophia followed close behind, their faces set in grim determination.
They reached the car, and Marcus slammed on the gas before everyone was fully seated. The freeway blurred past, LA's skyline rising in the distance like a silent judge. "Miller's agents are staked out two blocks from the restaurant," Marcus said, gripping the steering wheel. "But we can't rely on them—The Boss is too smart. He'll have a backup plan."
Raymond nodded, pulling a gun from his jacket—Miller had given it to him in Seattle. "The ledger code. He wants to access Ivan's accounts tonight. The bank's offshore server resets at midnight—he has to input the code before then."
Claire flipped through her dad's notebook, her finger stopping at a page marked "Voss, Richard." "Taylor's dad. He's the Boss." She looked up, her eyes wide. "Dad wrote that Voss has been laundering money for the syndicate for years. Chen was just his puppet. And when Dad got too close—Voss ordered his death."
Marcus's jaw tightened. Taylor's dad— the man who'd hosted the Silver Star Casino game, the one who'd worked with Chen. It all clicked. "He's been in plain sight this whole time."
They reached Chen's Kitchen at 10:30 PM. The restaurant was dark, but the neon "OPEN" sign was still on—Miller's signal that his mom was safe inside, guarded by agents. Marcus parked two blocks away, and they slipped through alleyways to the back door.
Jake—who'd flown ahead to coordinate with Miller—was waiting, his baseball cap pulled low. "Voss's men are inside. Three of them. They're holding your mom in the office, demanding the code." He nodded at the restaurant. "Miller's agents are positioned around the front, but Voss has a bomb—same as the boat. Tied to the cash register."
Marcus's mind raced. "Plan: Sophia, you and Jake take the front agents—create a distraction. Raymond, you free my mom from the office. Claire and I—we get the bomb, then stop Voss from inputting the code."
They nodded, splitting up. Marcus and Claire slipped through the back door, the restaurant's familiar smell of ginger and soy sauce mixing with the sharp scent of gunpowder. Two men stood near the cash register, their backs to them. Marcus signaled to Claire—she ducked behind a table, while he grabbed a wok from the kitchen.
He swung it, hitting the first man's head. The man fell, and the second spun, reaching for his gun. Claire tackled him, slamming his arm against the counter. Marcus cuffed him with zip ties, then ran to the cash register—there it was, a small metal box with a timer: 01:12.
"Dad's notes," Claire said, sliding beside him. "Voss's bombs—cut the yellow wire first. It disables the trigger." She pulled out her pocket knife, her hands steady. She cut the yellow wire—timer paused.
Raymond burst through the office door, Marcus's mom behind him. "She's safe," he said, his gun still raised. "Voss is in the back alley—talking to someone on the phone."
They ran to the back door. Voss stood there, a phone pressed to his ear, a gun in his other hand. He smiled when he saw them. "Marcus. Claire. Just in time. I was about to input the code."
"Drop the phone," Marcus said, raising his own gun—borrowed from Raymond. "It's over. The FBI's here."
Voss laughed, his voice cold. "You think this is over? The syndicate's everywhere. Even if I go down, they'll keep coming. For you, for your mom, for Claire's dad's legacy." He glanced at Claire. "Your dad was stupid. He thought he could take me down. Now he's dead."
Claire's face hardened. "You're wrong. He didn't die for nothing. His notes helped us stop you. And now, you're going to pay for what you did."
Voss lunged, but Jake and Sophia tackled him from the side. He fell, and Marcus cuffed him. Miller's agents ran in, taking Voss away. As he was led out, Voss looked at Marcus. "The syndicate never forgets. They'll send someone else. Mark my words."
Marcus's mom hugged him tight. "Thank you. All of you."
They sat in the restaurant, the bomb safely removed by Miller's tech team. The clock struck midnight—Voss had missed his window. Claire smiled, leaning against Marcus. "We did it. For my dad."
Marcus nodded, squeezing her hand. But he thought of Voss's words. The syndicate was big. They'd be back.
But for now, they were safe.
And together.