The kitchen clock ticked with a heavy, metallic resonance, each second dragging like a lead weight.

On the massive mahogany desk, a secure satellite feed flickered to life. The screen showed a dimly lit warehouse overlooking the freezing, steel-grey waters of Lake Thun. Bound to chairs beneath harsh overhead work lights were two figures: Nia’s father, looking pale and furious, and Zoe, who had a strip of duct tape over her mouth and murder in her eyes.

Standing behind them, holding a silver-barreled automatic pistol with bored casualness, was a young man with sharp features and a tailored obsidian suit—Kenji Chong.

"Jyn," Kenji’s voice crackled through the speaker, smooth and venomous. "I must hand it to you. Crashing your own jet into a snowdrift just to save a graphic designer and a baby is romantic enough to make a movie about. Too bad the sequel ends in a cemetery."

Jyn stood in front of the stone fireplace, his hands resting flat on the mantelpiece. He hadn't touched a drop of whiskey, nor had he blinked in ten minutes.

"Let them go, Kenji," Jyn said softly. His voice didn't rise, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "This is between you and me. The bloodline contract states that disputes of succession must be settled in single combat on neutral ground."

"Oh, I know the old rules, cousin," Kenji smiled thinly on screen. "But times change. And frankly, having an old man and a mouthy neighbor as leverage is much more efficient than standing in a freezing field with swords." Kenji leaned closer to the camera. "Bring the boy and the mother to the boathouse at Lake Thun within two hours, Jyn. Come alone, or I start subtraction with the neighbor."

Beep. The transmission cut to black.

Nia stepped out from the shadows of the bookshelf, her face pale with cold fury. She walked straight up to Jyn, stopping inches from his chest.

"My dad is an arrogant, manipulative coward who ruined my life," Nia said, her voice shaking with rage. "And Zoe is the only person who brings me decent lattes on Tuesday mornings. Neither of them are dying for your corporate family drama."

Jyn looked down at her, his jaw tight. "Nia, if you go to that boathouse, it’s a suicide mission."

"Who said anything about me going as a hostage?" Nia reached into her parka pocket and pulled out Grandma Gigi’s pink, heavy-duty police taser, setting it on the desk with a sharp clack. "You have a compound full of heavily armed men, an underground snowcat fleet, and a very angry German Shepherd who hasn't eaten breakfast yet. It’s time for a hostile takeover."

Jyn stared at the pink taser, then up at Nia. For the first time all night, a slow, terrifyingly genuine smile spread across his face.

"Hans," Jyn called out without turning around.