Chapter 254
Chapter 254:
This wasn’t a crime of passion. It was calculated hatred, refined like high-grade uranium—deadly and precise.
Tomorrow night, Preston would attempt to destroy the control center. To kill dozens of innocent people. To cripple the city’s power grid and bring Victoria Kane’s empire crashing down.
Unless Morgan found him first.
The city lights blurred as exhaustion crept in. Morgan rubbed his eyes, knowing he should sleep but feeling too wired to even consider it.
Herod’s phone rang at 3:17 AM. The cheap motel room was dark, except for the blue light of his burner phone cutting through the blackness. He squinted at the screen. Unknown number. His finger hovered over the decline button, but something made him answer.
“They found everything,” the voice on the other end was hushed, urgent. “Your business card in the substation. Your fingerprints on the detonator parts. Plans for the bombings in your apartment.”
Herod sat up, suddenly wide awake. “What plans? I never kept anything in the apartment.”
“Well, someone did. Blueprints of the substations. Notebooks with blast calculations. A journal talking about your hatred for Victoria Kane.”
“That’s impossible. I never wrote any journal.” Herod’s mouth went dry. “What else?”
“Your emails. Detailing everything. The FBI has enough to lock you away forever.” Martinez paused. “I’m risking everything telling you this. My career, my freedom.”
“I appreciate it.” Herod’s mind raced. “Any mention of Rose Lewis in the evidence?”
“Nothing. Not a trace.” Martinez’s voice dropped even lower. “Look, I can’t help you anymore. They’re searching for you everywhere. Airports, train stations, the works. I need to disappear from your life now.” The line went dead before Herod could respond.
He sat motionless in the darkness, the truth settling over him like a heavy blanket. Rose had set him up. Completely. Thoroughly. She’d planted evidence while he was out. Created a fake journal. Fabricated emails.
And made sure none of it pointed to her.
Herod got up and flicked on the light. The motel room was small and dirty, nothing like the luxury he was used to. Rose had insisted they move here two days ago, claiming they needed to stay hidden.
Now he understood why.
She’d wanted him in this dump, away from his resources, while she set her trap. And he’d walked right into it, blind and willing.
The bathroom door opened, steam escaping as Rose emerged, wrapped in a thin towel, her hair still wet from the shower. She smiled when she saw him, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“You’re up early,” she said, toweling her hair. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I just got a call from Martinez.” Herod watched her closely, looking for any reaction. “The FBI found evidence in my apartment. Evidence I never put there.”
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