The sound of my fist connecting with Adrian Duca’s jaw cracked through his Tribeca penthouse like a gunshot. His head snapped sideways.

“Wait, Adrian,” I spoke up, stepping between him and the armory table.

Adrian paused, his grey eyes searching mine. “Cara, this is a combat operation. You stay in the bunker.”

“You don't need to fight an army at the docks,” I said, pointing to the chemical analysis on Dr. Kline’s laptop. “Look at the batch number on that Aconitine capsule Vincent used.”

Adrian and Marcus stepped closer to the screen.

“That specific synthetic ester of Aconitine—Aconitum chasmanthum derivative 4-B—is an ultra-restricted pharmaceutical reagent,” I explained, my scientific training taking over with crystal clarity. “It is only manufactured by two specialized bio-chemical laboratories in the United States. One of them is Apex Bio-Logistics in New Jersey, which happens to be funded by Moretti’s primary commercial holding trust.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “She’s right. That creates a direct, unassailable chain of custody linking Moretti to the exact poison used in the penthouse.”

“And there’s more,” I continued, typing rapidly on the keyboard. “Before I dropped out of pharmacy school, I interned at the State Department of Health’s Controlled Substances Bureau. Every shipment of Level-One cardiac toxins requires a dual digital key stored in the company’s cloud server.”

I pulled up the public regulatory registry.

“If we extract the digital purchase log from Apex Bio-Logistics right now, we won't just have Moretti’s mercenaries on camera—we will have a federal indictment for Attempted Premeditated Murder with a Weapon of Mass Destruction under Title 18 of the United States Code.”