No encrypted messages.

No suspicious vehicles.

No HOA notices.

No gate confrontation.

No activity from Halden.

The silence felt almost unnatural.

Talia stood in her bedroom and looked through the window.

California sunlight poured across the backyard.

The pool was still.

The patio furniture was untouched.

For the first time in weeks, she thought about something that had nothing to do with the investigation.

She wanted to sit by the pool.

Just for an hour.

She changed into a navy swimsuit, tied her braids back, and took a book outside.

Her German Shepherd followed her.

She placed her phone on the table.

Then she removed her earpiece.

The tiny FBI-issued device rested beside the book.

Talia looked at it.

For sixty seconds, she wasn't Agent Monroe.

She wasn't an investigator.

She wasn't a target.

She was simply a woman sitting beside her own swimming pool.

She closed her eyes.

The California sun warmed her face.

A lawn mower hummed somewhere beyond the wall.

A bird landed on the fence.

Talia smiled.

Then she opened her eyes.

Richard Halden was standing across the street.

He wasn't pretending to check the mail.

He wasn't gardening.

He wasn't talking to a neighbor.

He was simply standing there.

Watching her.

His phone was pressed to his ear.

Their eyes met.

He didn't look away.

Talia remained still.

Halden spoke into the phone.

His free hand moved toward her house.

He gestured.

Once.

Twice.

Then he turned away.

But his eyes remained on her.

Three seconds.

Four.

Then he walked inside.

Talia reached for her phone.

Her fingers stopped.

She considered calling her handler.

Then her dog barked.

Once.

Sharp.

The German Shepherd stood near the side fence.

His ears were raised.

His teeth were visible.

A low growl rolled from his throat.

Talia stood.

She listened.

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Fast.

Multiple people.

They weren't on the sidewalk.

They were inside the backyard access area.

Talia's heartbeat accelerated.

The pool gate latch moved.

Click.

The gate opened.

Three sheriff's deputies entered.

The lead officer immediately reached toward his weapon.

The second had handcuffs ready.

The third looked at Talia as though she were a threat.

Nobody asked who she was.

Nobody asked whether she lived there.

Nobody checked her identification.

The lead officer shouted:

"Hands where I can see them!"

Talia raised her hands.

"I live here."

"Turn around!"

"I live here."

"Turn around now!"

"My identification is inside the house."

"Ma'am, stop talking and comply."

Talia's heart pounded.

She had been trained for confrontations.

Stay calm.

Don't argue.

Don't make sudden movements.

Survive first.

Correct later.

She slowly turned.

Then she saw the third deputy's hand move toward his gun.

Her instincts screamed.

One wrong movement could end her life.

"Get on the ground!"

Talia hesitated for half a second.

The lead deputy grabbed her shoulder.

He shoved.

Her knees struck the concrete.

Pain shot through her legs.

Before she could recover, another hand forced her forward.

Her cheek hit the deck.

Blood filled her mouth.

Her lip had split.

"Hands behind your back!"

She complied.

The cuffs snapped around her wrists.

Too tight.

Her arms were pulled upward.

Something in her shoulder popped.

She gasped.

A knee pressed into her back.

"Don't move."

Talia tried to breathe.

"I can't—"

"Don't move!"

"I can't breathe."

The pressure increased.

"You should've thought about that before breaking into someone's house."

"This is my house."

"Resisting."

The words were typed into the deputy's radio.

"Providing false information."

Talia turned her head.

She could barely see.

Neighbors had gathered.

Phones were out.

People stood in driveways.

Watching.

Recording.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody intervened.

Then she saw Halden.

He stood across the street.

Arms folded.

Face arranged into concern.

But his eyes were calm.

Satisfied.

Talia understood.

He had called them.

The third deputy crouched beside her.

"We got a call about a break-in."

Talia said nothing.

"You match the description."

Her breathing became shallower.

"You're in a backyard that doesn't belong to you."

She closed her eyes.

Her mind raced.

If she revealed herself, the investigation could collapse.

Months of work.

Witnesses.

Servers.

Evidence.

The entire network.

But if she didn't reveal herself—

She felt the deputy's hand near his weapon.

Talia made her decision.

Her wrist moved slightly.

Inside her watchband was a tiny emergency device.

She pressed it against the ground.

Held.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Released.

No sound.

No light.

No visible signal.

But hundreds of miles of encrypted infrastructure were unnecessary.

The signal traveled directly to an FBI tactical monitoring system.

AGENT IN DISTRESS.

At a secure field office, a red alert appeared.

Supervisory Special Agent Marcus Dutton was briefed within seconds.

"Where?"

"Sycamore Bend Estates."

"Who?"

"Monroe."

Dutton stood.

"Get the tactical team."

Back in Talia's yard, the deputy leaned closer.

"Any sudden move and this gets worse."

Talia could barely breathe.

Then she heard an engine.

Fast.

Very fast.

A black SUV came around the corner.

It crossed the cul-de-sac at a speed no civilian driver would dare attempt.

The windshield flashed blue and red.

The SUV stopped hard.

Doors opened.