The metronomic click of the external hard drive droned on within its slim black casing, the steady cadence thumping in rhythm to his own pulse. Daniel unsheathed a fourth hard drive and connected it to the final computer tower. With a few strokes of the keyboard, it joined the muted percussion of the other electronic equipment. In a matter of minutes, all the computers would be wiped clean.

The machines they’d seized from Trendsetters sat in a secured building at the DHS field office in San Antonio, preparing to be shipped to Virginia, but the computers he’d used in this generic apartment in the Triangle would remain here for use by the next set of undercover agents tasked with locking up the Southeast region’s bad guys and saving the day.

He’d spent much of the morning blocking out the racket from the movers as they carried in boxes and stacked them against the walls in the living room. The new tenants, two DHS agents out of Miami-Dade, would be arriving at the end of the week, which meant Daniel still had a few days before he’d have to close up shop and turn the apartment over to them.

He didn’t need a few days. His clothes were already packed. Ninety-nine percent of his loose ends tied up. All that was left for him to do was to board a plane and fly back to his bland cubbyhole at FinCEN.

That’s not all that’s left.

Dread. Heavy, sickening, and profound. It rested in his gut, lodged in his throat; consumed his entire being.

The one final thing he had left to do tormented him, but he knew he couldn’t leave Austin without talking to Samiah. The knot in his stomach tightened at the thought of facing her. He refused to take the coward’s way out. He would weather her wrath and do his best to explain why he’d taken her trust in him and smashed it with a sledgehammer.

For now, he brooded in silence, watching the faces of his coworkers populate the computer monitor as they prepared for their weekly check-in—the last he’d have in this place he’d called home for the past two months. Despite the ever-present chill in the dark room, Daniel couldn’t bring himself to pull on his Phillies hoodie. He didn’t want to associate his favorite garment with the revulsion he’d been experiencing from the moment he’d made the call to bring in the DHS and FBI to make the arrests at Trendsetters yesterday.

As his comrades back at FinCEN gathered for their video conference, the accolades began to pour in.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Collins, but you proved me wrong. Good job.”

“Same here.”