Emma expected to be fired for bringing her child to work, but Roman Callahan whispered one name that made her blood run cold.

Roman turned toward Clara, but she had already stepped back, gun raised.

“Don’t,” she said. “I know where you’re wounded.”

Emma looked at Helena chained against the wall.

The older woman’s lip was split. Her gray coat was torn. But her eyes were clear.

“I’m sorry,” Helena whispered.

Roman’s face was unreadable. “For which part?”

Helena flinched.

Silas laughed.

Even weakened, even seated, the old man filled the cellar with poison.

“There he is,” Silas said. “My perfect weapon. Still sharp. Still cruel. Still pretending cruelty is something he caught from me instead of something he enjoyed.”

Roman took one step forward.

Emma touched his arm.

Not to stop him.

To remind him he was not alone.

Silas noticed and smiled at her.

“Grace had that same look. Poor women often mistake stubbornness for power.”

Emma’s fear vanished beneath rage.

“My mother died stopping men like you.”

“Your mother died failing.”

Roman moved so fast Clara raised the gun with both hands.

Silas lifted one finger. “Careful. If Clara shoots you, she becomes emotional. If she shoots Miss Miller, she becomes useful.”

Roman stopped.

Emma swallowed.

The wire beneath her coat felt suddenly too small.

Were Agent Ellis and Vincent hearing this? Were they close enough? Would the east tunnel open in time?

Silas leaned back, breathing shallowly. “You want confession. Everyone wants confession once the ending is already written. Fine. I took children. I placed them where they benefited me. Judges wanted heirs. Donors wanted secrets buried. Politicians wanted scandals erased. Hospitals wanted funding. Everyone wanted something clean from something dirty.”

Emma felt sick.

Helena closed her eyes.

Roman’s voice was low. “You locked children underground.”

“I stored assets.”

Emma stepped forward before she could stop herself. “They were children.”

Silas looked amused. “That belief is why women lose wars.”

Roman’s face changed.

But Emma spoke first.

“No. Women lose wars because men write the history after killing the witnesses.”

The amusement faded from Silas’s eyes.

Good.

Emma kept going.

“My mother kept records. Helena survived. Clara came back wrong, but she came back. I’m standing here. Lily is alive. You didn’t erase women. You just made us angry enough to remember everything.”

For the first time, Silas looked at her with something like interest.

Then hatred.

“You are nothing.”

Roman’s voice cut in. “She is Grace Miller’s daughter.”

Silas turned to him.

Roman continued, “And Lily’s mother. And the reason your courtroom trick failed.”

Silas smiled again. “You think one hearing matters? One warrant? One cellar? The records are everywhere and nowhere. Half the men exposed by Saint Agnes will burn their own houses before allowing discovery.”

Clara shifted slightly.

Emma noticed.

So did Roman.

Silas’s eyes moved toward his daughter. “Clara understands. Don’t you, my girl? Survival belongs to whoever controls fear.”

Clara’s mouth tightened.

“Is that what you called it?” she asked softly.

Silas looked at her. “Called what?”

“When you sent me away.”

The cellar changed.

Roman looked at Clara.

Helena whispered, “Clara.”

Clara’s gun remained raised, but her hand trembled.

Silas sighed. “You were defective.”

The words landed like a blade.

Clara went white.

“You cried too much,” Silas continued. “You clung to servants. You asked for your mother. Weakness in a daughter is inconvenient. Weakness in a son is dangerous. Either way, it had to be removed.”

Clara’s eyes filled.

For the first time, Emma saw not the woman in red, not the kidnapper, not the villain from the hallway.

She saw a child locked away so long she had mistaken the lock for inheritance.

Roman saw it too.

“Clara,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

“He used you.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s still using you.”

Silas laughed. “Of course I am. She is mine.”

Clara turned the gun toward him.

Silas smiled wider. “There she is.”

Roman stepped forward. “Don’t give him the ending he wants.”

Clara’s face twisted. “What ending do I get? Prison? Pity? A brother who remembers me only after another man found my name in a file?”

Roman’s voice broke slightly. “I was a child.”

“So was I!”

The shout shook dust from the beams.

For one second, no one spoke.

Then behind the cellar wall came a faint metallic sound.

Emma heard it.

Agent Ellis.

The east tunnel.

Clara heard it too.

Her eyes snapped toward the wall.

Silas smiled.

“You see? No one trusts you, Clara. Not even now.”

Something inside Clara shattered.

She fired.

Not at Silas.

At the wall.

Agents burst through a hidden service door seconds later.

The cellar exploded into motion.

Roman shoved Emma behind him. Clara fired again. Agents shouted. Silas tried to stand and collapsed. Helena screamed. Emma hit the floor as bullets struck stone.

Then she saw Silas reaching beneath his chair.

A small device was strapped under the seat.

A trigger.

Emma did not think.

She lunged.

Roman shouted her name.

Silas’s fingers closed around the trigger.

Emma slammed into his arm.

The device fell and skidded across the floor.

Clara saw it.

For one heartbeat, she and Emma looked at each other.

Then Clara kicked the trigger toward Roman.