Chyna’s POV
The corridor feed blinked once, then cut to black.
My heart slammed against my ribs, but I didn’t panic.
Not yet.
“He’s cutting through the service hallway,” I said, steady as I could. “He’s going dark.”
The screen updated with a single red dot labeled CHIEF OF STAFF. I tracked the movement in real-time.
“Yea, he’s not panicking that’s for sure,” Zaddy replied looking at the screen. “He has a precise pattern. It seems to be calculated. He’s not even reacting to anything as if he already had a plan before our decoy.” Then Zaddy’s voice dropped. “Seal the lower exits. No alarms. He can’t know we’re onto him yet.”
I was already working. Fingers flying across the keyboard.
“Trying. He’s spoofed his credentials. Cameras are cycling on a loop. Either he has help…” I took a breath and paused, narrowing my eyes, “…or he is the help.”
The feed flickered.
An updated image populated.
The Chief of Staff was walking through the White House maintenance level calmly.
No guards challenged him.
No hesitation.
He passed a steel door, palmed it open with a card that shouldn’t exist, and disappeared into the underground parking bay.
I leaned in, breath caught. “Zaddy… he’s definely not fleeing.”
He nodded. “Yes, I agree. He’s extracting.”
I zoomed the feed tighter.
I saw two black SUVs.
Tinted windows.
Diplomatic plates.
The second vehicle was tucked behind the first, shadowing like a ghost.
I tried tagging their digital ID.
Nothing.
“They’re masked,” I yelled out. “Damnit. I can’t trace their plates. That’s foreign op tech. He’s got an escape plan running through international back channels.”
“Keep your eyes on him,” Zaddy ordered. “I’m alerting security. This needs to be done quietly. No sirens, no flags.”
He leaned closer to the satphone, his voice dropped to lethal. “Code Black Ice. Pattern Delta. Shadow, don’t intercept. We follow.”
The convoy disappeared under an unmarked tunnel.
He was gone.
My screen started populating with unknown nodes. Foreign servers were bouncing off foreign servers.
“He’s not a traitor,” I said quietly. “He’s a fucking plant.”
Zaddy didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
I already knew.
And the realization hit me like ice water. “He’s been sitting inside the West Wing the entire time, feeding them evacuation routes, real-time clearances, the President’s itinerary, and possibly our locations.”
“Yea, this ain’t treason we’re dealing with,” Zaddy finally replied, voice cold. “This is infiltration, and he’ll lead us to the rest of those muthafuckas!”
*****
Location: Northern Virginia, Private Sensitive Compartmented Information Facilities (SCIF Contractor Site)
Somewhere inland, inside a low-lit SCIF tucked within a private contractor facility in Northern Virginia, one of the Chief’s men scrolled through a report on a secure laptop.
Walker Law, Houston was blinking on the feed.
The screen populated a log: Connection: Personal call made from Walker’s phone. Location: Walker Reed Hospital. Target number? Flagged.
*****
Location: Salon Privé
The street outside Salon Privé by Jada Monroe shimmered on the sidewalk under the Oakland sun.
Jada stepped out, iced coffee in hand, twisting her locs up as she sipped. The breeze kissed her shoulders. She’d just finished a double-booked bridal party and was finally about to enjoy her break.
Then,
A well dressed man in a dark suit, lean frame smiled at her.
He was leaning against a black sedan.
But, his smile was too slow to be natural.
“Ms. Jada, right?” he asked, slipping his phone from his pocket.
“I just need a second of your time.”
She blinked. “Do I… know you?”
He turned his screen toward her.
She saw a number.
“This number called you from Zaedrick Walker’s cell a couple of months ago,” he said. “We’re just following up.”
“Following up on what?”
“On what he wanted,” the man said.
Jada was confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The man lauged, but it wasn’t a regular one. It sounded low and wicked.
Her heart stuttered.
“To be honest, I—I don’t remember. I get random calls all the time. Brides, stylists, suppliers—”
His smile vanished. “Try harder. More of us will be coming until you do.”
He put the phone in his pocket, stepped into the sedan, and sped off.
Jada stood frozen on the curb, her coffee slowly dripping onto her heels.
“What the fuck was that all about?” She said to herself.
*****
Location: Angie’s House
By sunset, Jada was at Angie’s gated community, still shaking. The guard barely looked up when she drove through. Inside, she paced the kitchen, clutching a wine glass she hadn’t touched.
“I think they’re following me,” she whispered.
Angie’s brows came together. “Girl, who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Girl you tweakin’.”
“No I’m not,” Jada anxiously responded back. “He showed me Zaddy’s number.”
“Girl how do you know Zaddy’s number? You trippin’.”
“Noooo, listen. The day Zaddy got shot, Chyna had called me from the hospital but from Zaddy’s phone.”
“But I’m still confused,” Angie replied. “Who are you talking about? Who showed you his number? When? And why? I’m so lost. You been smokin’?”
“Angie, this is not a time to be playing,” Jada started crying. “I’m serious right now.”
“Bitch you ok? Damn. You are serious,” Angie replied pouring herself a glassof wine. “Here, let’s sit. Breathe.”
Jada sat for a few moments sipping her wine, taking slow deep breaths then exhaling slowly.
After a minutes, she spoke again. “After I finished my clients for the day, I stepped outside for some fresh air. While I was out there, a man who seemed like he had been waiting for me, walked up and showed me Zaddy’s number on his phone and asked me what he wanted when he called. Hell I didn’t know what that man was talking about. I hadn’t talked to Zaddy, only Chyna,” pausing Jada started looking more nervous. “This man said my name too!”
Then Jada snatched Angie’s phone. Her hands shook as she dialed.