The next morning, Chen's Kitchen was bustling with customers—regulars who'd heard about the syndicate threat and came to show support. Marcus wiped down tables, his mind wandering to Voss in FBI custody—Miller had texted that he was cooperating, giving up syndicate contacts in LA. But something felt off.
Claire sat at a corner table, her dad's notebook open. She waved him over. "Look at this," she said, pointing to a page. "Dad wrote about a 'safe house' in the Hollywood Hills. Voss used it to hide cash and drugs. Miller's agents searched it last night—empty. But there's a note: 'Syndicate's last move—hit the FBI office, free Voss.'"
Marcus's chest tightened. "When?"
"Tonight. 8 PM. Miller's team is understaffed—most agents are following Voss's leads." Claire closed the notebook. "We need to help. My dad would have."
Raymond walked over, drying a glass. "I'm in. But we need a plan. Voss's men will be armed—we can't just charge in."
Sophia grinned, pulling her switchblade from her pocket. "I have a plan. Miller gave me access to the FBI office's security feeds. There's a back entrance—unmanned after 7 PM. We can get in, hide, and ambush the syndicate when they arrive."
Marcus nodded. "My mom's restaurant is safe—Miller's left two agents here. We'll meet at the FBI office at 7:30."
That night, the Hollywood Hills were dark, the FBI office a sleek building surrounded by palm trees. Marcus and his team slipped through the back entrance, using a key Miller had given them. The office was quiet, cubicles empty, the only light coming from a single lamp in Miller's office.
"Hide in the conference room," Marcus whispered. "When they come in, we'll block the exit."
They waited, the clock ticking. At 8:05 PM, the front door burst open. Five syndicate men, all with guns, ran in. "Find Voss! Free him before the backup arrives!"
Marcus signaled—they sprung from the conference room. Sophia tackled the first man, her switchblade pressed to his throat. Raymond hit the second with a chair. Claire grabbed a stapler, hitting the third's hand—his gun fell. Marcus and Jake took the last two, cuffing them with zip ties.
It was over in two minutes. Miller's agents arrived seconds later, taking the men away. Miller clapped Marcus on the shoulder. "Good work. Voss is being transferred to a maximum-security prison. The syndicate's LA operations are shut down."
Claire smiled, looking at her dad's notebook. "It's over. For real this time."
But as they walked out of the FBI office, Marcus's phone buzzed—an anonymous text:
"Syndicate's not done. The Boss's boss is in New York. He wants revenge. Claire's dad's old case—there's more to it. New York. Next month."
He showed it to Claire. Her face paled. "New York. My dad's final case. He was investigating the syndicate's top leader—'The Phantom.' No one knows who he is."
Marcus grinned. "Then we'll find out. Together."