Masuk"Look at the red, Scar. It’s not just a dip anymore; it’s a hemorrhage," Roman said, his voice a low, vibrating hum against my ear.I leaned into him, the scratchy wool of the blanket still draped over my bare shoulders. We were tangled on the cot, the cold morning air of the shack biting at our skin, but the heat coming off the tablet was enough to burn. On the screen, the Reed Global stock ticker was a jagged, falling knife. It hadn't just opened low; it was plummeting so fast the circuit breakers were tripping every ten minutes."Is that because of the Northcrest files? The ones Miller sent?" I whispered."It’s everything," Roman muttered, his fingers ghosting over the screen. "The Switzerland logs, the 'Angel' audio, and now the Apex manifest. The market doesn't care about morality, but it hates a liability. And right now, Marcus is the biggest liability on the East Coast.""What are they doing? The people in the building?""They’re turning on him," he said, a dark, jagged sliver
"He’s the target, Roman, but targets have a habit of moving when you pull the trigger," a voice crackled through the tablet’s speaker, sharp and uncomfortably clear.Roman’s hand froze mid-air. He didn't disconnect. He just tapped a command to stabilize the audio, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Miller. I figured you’d be busy coordinating Marcus’s escape route right about now.""I’m sitting in my car two blocks from the Reed Global lobby, watching the rats jump ship," Miller replied. The sound of a heavy sigh came through, followed by the metallic click of a lighter. "Look, Sterling... Scarlett. I know how the last few weeks looked. I played the part of the loyal hound because that’s the only way I could get close enough to the internal logs to see what Marcus was actually hiding. I spent months on this 'secret mission' thinking I could bring him down from the inside, but I treated you like targets to keep my cover. I'm sorry. I let the mission make me a bully."I pulled the blanket
"He’s panicking, Scar. I can see the metadata moving in real-time. He’s trying to scrub the archives, but the more he deletes, the more the mirrors flag it as an admission of guilt," Roman said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through the small space of the shack.I sat on the floor with my back against his legs, watching the tiny, cracked screen of the second tablet. On the live news feed, Marcus was stepping out of a black SUV in front of his Manhattan headquarters. He wasn’t wearing his usual smug smile. His tie was slightly askew, and for the first time in my life, I saw a bead of sweat on his temple that the cameras didn’t hide."Look at his eyes," I whispered, leaning closer. "He looks like he’s looking for an exit that isn't there.""He’s calling in every favor he’s bought in the last decade," Roman said, his fingers clicking rhythmically, a steady beat of digital war. "I'm intercepting the outbound pings. He just tried to reach the Attorney General's private line
"It’s not just a leak anymore, Scar. It’s a flood. The London mirror just dumped the audio from the night he sent me to Switzerland," Roman said, his voice thick with a dark, gravelly triumph.I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, my body still humming from the heat of him, but my mind was spinning. "The audio? You mean the part where he forced you to say you didn't love me?""Every word of it," Roman muttered. He didn't look away from the screen, but his hand reached out, searching for mine until our fingers locked. "I didn't just record the money talk. I recorded the breakup. I wanted to remember exactly how much I hated him in that moment so I wouldn't break while I was over there.""Let me hear it," I whispered."Scar, you don't need that in your head. The world hearing it is enough.""No," I said, my voice gaining a sharp edge. "I lived through the lie for three years, Roman. I lived through the version where you just stopped caring. I need to hear the version where h
"I'm not playing defense anymore, Scar. I’m tired of running from a ghost when I have the matches to burn the house down," Roman said, his voice coming out as a low, terrifyingly calm vibration.I shivered, but not from the draft coming through the floorboards. I sat on the edge of the metal cot, watching him. He wasn’t the hunched-over, bleeding survivor I’d pulled into this shack. He looked different. The light from the laptop was reflected in his eyes, making them look like cold blue glass. The frantic energy from before had settled into something heavy and predatory."What does that mean?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Roman, you’re still hurt. You can barely move your arm.""I don't need my arm to bankrupt him," he said, and for the first time, he wasn't just typing; he was smiling. It wasn't a happy smile. It was the kind of look a wolf gives just before the snap. "He’s trying to freeze your mother’s accounts? Fine. I’m going to make sure he can’t even buy a cup of coffee
"Pick up, Scarlett. Please, for the love of God, pick up the phone," my mother’s voice sobbed through the speaker, sounding thin and reedy, like a ghost caught in a wire.I stared at the burner phone Roman had handed me. My thumb hovered over the red button. "She’s called six times in the last twenty minutes, Roman. She’s losing it.""She’s not losing it because she misses you, Scar. She’s losing it because she saw the Northcrest ledger," Roman said, his voice flat. He didn't look up from his work, but I saw his jaw tighten. "She knows that half-million-dollar 'consultation fee' has her signature right next to it."I hit the button. "Mom?""Oh, thank God. Scarlett? Where are you? You have to come home. Right now," Lydia scrambled, the words tripping over each other. I could hear the sound of glass clinking—she was definitely drinking, and it wasn't even noon. "Marcus is in a state. He’s... he’s talking about calling the federal authorities. He says you’re in danger. He says that boy h







