Episode 5: Fractured Loyalties

The private jet hummed through the night, carrying them back to New York. Lila stared at the encrypted files on her laptop—bank transfers, surveillance photos, damning emails. All pointing to one undeniable truth: her father’s inner circle was rotten to the core.

Vincent slid into the seat beside her, handing her a whiskey. "You look like hell."

She took the glass, their fingers brushing. "Feel like it too."

For days, she’d barely slept, replaying the rescued girls’ haunted faces. The way the Korean student—Mina—had flinched at the sight of a police badge.

Vincent studied her. "Having second thoughts?"

Lila swallowed the burning liquor. "I’m thinking about how many times I bragged about my dad at parties. How many people knew and let me be his oblivious little mascot."

His jaw tightened. "The people who matter will see the truth soon enough."

She glanced at the folder labeled RAMIREZ. Her father’s right-hand man. Her godfather. "What’s the play when we land?"

Vincent leaned closer, his voice a rough whisper. "First, we—"

The jet lurched violently. A warning light flashed. Over the intercom, the pilot shouted, "Missile lock!"

Vincent yanked Lila to the floor as the world exploded in noise and heat.

Smoke stung her eyes. The cabin tilted at a sickening angle. Vincent hauled her toward the emergency exit, shouting over the alarms. "Parachutes! Now!"

Lila’s hands shook as she strapped on the harness. Behind them, flames licked the cockpit door.

Vincent gripped her face. "Listen carefully. When we land, run for the coordinates I programmed into your phone. Don’t trust anyone."

She clutched his wrists. "You’re coming with me!"

His smile was grim. "Gotta make sure they think we’re dead first."

Then they were falling through freezing darkness, the burning jet illuminating the ocean below.

Lila hit the water hard. The parachute dragged her under before she could cut herself free. Saltwater burned her lungs as she fought toward the surface.

A strong arm hooked around her waist. Vincent.

"Told you… to run," he gasped, pulling her toward shore.

She coughed up seawater. "And miss… all this fun?"

The beach was deserted. Vincent collapsed beside her, his black shirt torn, revealing a fresh gash across his ribs.

Lila’s breath hitched. "You’re hurt."

"Scratch." He winced as she probed the wound.

"Bullshit." She ripped her sleeve, pressing it to the bleeding. "Who the hell shot us down?"

Vincent’s eyes darkened. "Someone who really doesn’t want you seeing what’s in that Ramirez file."

The safe house was a crumbling brownstone in Brooklyn. Lila paced while Vincent stitched his own wound, his muscles flexing with each pull of the thread.

She forced herself to focus on the laptop. "The files survived. Ramirez has been diverting FBI resources to protect trafficking routes."

Vincent tied off the suture. "He’s not the mastermind."

"Then who—?"

A knock at the door.

They froze. Vincent drew his gun, motioning her behind him.

The door creaked open to reveal—

"Mina?" Lila gasped.

The Korean student stood trembling, her face bruised. "They’re coming for you. The Commissioner… he knows you’re alive."

Vincent didn’t lower his weapon. "How’d you find us?"

Mina lifted her wrist, revealing a scar Lila knew too well—a childhood dog bite. "I’m your sister, Lila. Dad sold me to the traffickers when I was twelve."

The world tilted. Lila’s knees hit the floor.

Vincent caught her before she could collapse. His arms were the only thing holding her together as her past shattered.

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