The hotel bar at the Beau-Rivage was a temple of quiet money. Dark wood, soft leather, the gentle clink of crystal. The air smelled of expensive whisky, cigars, and discreet power. I sat at a corner table, my back to the wall, a briefcase on the floor beside me. Inside was a file folder containing copies of the ship’s manifest, the auction catalog, the death certificate, and a single-page typed proposal outlining the terms of exile.My heart was a trapped bird beating against my ribs. The wire was a faint, itchy presence under my shirt collar. The panic button, disguised as a pen, was in my jacket pocket. Matteo and Anton were somewhere in the hotel, posing as guests, as staff. Lorenzo was in a car two blocks away, listening to every word through an earpiece. I could feel the low, steady thrum of his focus through the bond, a lifeline in the terrifying quiet.I’d called the Admiral’s lawyer, Voss, to request the meeting. I’d been vague. “I have a proposal. A way to end this, for every
Last Updated : 2026-01-19 Read more