Steven took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly before he started explaining everything that happened to Hargreaves.

He started from when he was abducted on the street, to what transpired in the room and how he had killed Drew and two of his men.

When he was finished narrating everything, the line had gone silent. Hargreaves said nothing, as he processed everything he had just been told, while also thinking of what to do.

From what Steven told him, he understood that the situation Steven had found himself has made his actions unavoidable.

He knew that if things weren’t complicated by Drew’s father connection to a drug cartel, Steven would had gotten off easily if he was charged, as he would simply argue self defence.

Unfortunately things weren’t that simple. But it doesn’t mean that Steven can’t get out of that situation.

While Hargreaves processed everything, Steven waited, one hand resting on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the back wall of the building through the windscreen.

He was watching to see if there was any movement, like any of the injured men escaping from the room after he had trapped them inside by breaking both handles of the door.

He was also watching for movements, as he felt that someone might probably come to check out what was happening after multiple gunshot sounds, or one of the Drew’s men approaching.

"Are you unhurt," Hargreaves asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes," Steven said.

Hargreaves paused for a moment and Steven could sense the relief from him.

"The men inside the building," Hargreaves said. "The ones who are still alive — do they know your name?"

Steven thought about it. "I’m not sure but there’s a high possibility that they do."

"And the building itself. Are there any external cameras you noticed on your way in or out?"

"None that I saw," Steven said. "I think the location was chosen to avoid exactly that."

"That’s something," Hargreaves said, more to himself than to Steven.

The line went quiet again, and Steven had the particular sense of a mind moving quickly through a sequence of considerations, discarding options, retaining others, building toward a position.

"Here is where we are," Hargreaves said at last. "What you’ve described is, in the most direct reading, a self-defence situation. You were abducted at gunpoint, transported against your will, held at gunpoint, and fired upon first. In Texas, the legal framework for self-defence is among the most permissive in the country. A competent attorney could construct that argument without difficulty."

"But," Steven said.

"But," Hargreaves confirmed. "The complication is the father. Richard Mercer is not a man who will receive news of his son’s death and pursue legal remedies. He has resources that operate well outside the courts, and he has every reason to use them." He paused. "And there is a second complication. The men inside that building — the ones possibly connected to the Vega organisation — their deaths will not go unnoticed on that side either. Drew may have arranged this independently of his father’s connections, or he may not have. We don’t yet know which. Either way, the organisation will notice that men they provided are not coming back."

Steven said nothing. He had already worked through most of this on his own in the minutes between walking through the building and making the call.

"So the question," Hargreaves continued, "is not whether you can be defended legally. You can. The question is whether the legal route is the right first move, or whether it exposes you before the more dangerous variables have been managed."

"What’s do you think is best?" Steven asked.

Hargreaves took a moment before answering, which told Steven the answer was not a simple one.

"What I think," he said carefully, "is that we have a narrow window before the situation becomes visible. The men in that building will be found eventually — by the organisation, by whoever owns the property, or by someone who notices the location and investigates. Once that happens, the sequence of events begins moving on someone else’s timeline, not yours."

"So we move first," Steven said.

"We move first," Hargreaves agreed. "The investigation into WhiteCrest and the Vega connections was already being prepared for federal submission. That process accelerates immediately. If the documentation reaches the right federal desk before Richard Mercer has time to activate whatever response he’s planning, his options narrow considerably. A man facing federal scrutiny for cartel money laundering has limited capacity to pursue private vendettas at the same time." He paused. "It doesn’t eliminate the risk. But it changes the landscape materially."

"And the building?" Steven asked.

"I’ll make a call," Hargreaves said, with a tone of finality. "You won’t need to know the details of that. What I need from you is to drive home, go inside your apartment, and behave as though this morning was unremarkable. Do not contact anyone else. Do not tell anyone what happened. Not yet."

Steven’s jaw tightened slightly. "Lena."

"Not yet," Hargreaves said again, firmly but not unkindly. "Until we understand the shape of Richard Mercer’s response, every person you tell is a person who becomes part of this. The fewer people who know, the fewer people are in danger. You can tell her when it’s safe to tell her, and I will tell you when that is."

The logic was clean and Steven knew it. He pressed his thumb against the edge of the steering wheel and held it there for a moment.

"Alright," he said.

"One more thing," Hargreaves said. "The security consultation was scheduled for this morning. "I’m moving it. Given what you’ve just told me, putting unfamiliar faces in your building today creates more variables than it removes. I’ll handle the immediate security arrangements myself through channels I already trust. The formal consultation can happen once the situation has stabilised."

"Understood," Steven said.

"You’re not the first person to have found themselves in a situation they didn’t choose. You are, however, one of the very few with the resources and the backing to come out of it intact. Let us do what we’re here for," Hargreaves said." So, go home, Mr. Craig. I’ll be in touch before noon."

"Thank you," Steven said, feeling very grateful to Hargreaves.

The call ended.

Steven sat in the Porsche for a long moment, his phone resting against his knee. Outside, the city was beginning to wake up, with the sky lightening at its edges and the first distant sound of traffic carrying through the quiet street.

He started the engine, pulled away from the back of the building, and drove in the direction of River Oaks without rushing.

The morning looked exactly as it had forty minutes ago.

Steven kept his hands steady on the wheel and his expression unchanged, and drove.

He got home fifteen minutes later and walked into the bathroom immediately to take his bath.

As the water rushed down his body, he looked at his hand and saw it covered with blood, even though it was clean, and it started shaking.

He took a deep breath and clenched his fist, doing his best to steady his emotions.

He tried to close his eyes but the scene of those two men choking on their own blood, and going limp, with glazed eyes, replayed in his head multiple times.

"I hate this," he muttered.