The security operations room at Thorne Global was a cathedral of cold glass and paranoia, buried deep in the sub-basement of the Aethelgard cliff estate. Fifty screens. Twelve silent analysts.At seven in the morning, all of it was failing.Alistair Thorne stood at the central console, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His tie was gone, his sharp white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his jaw was shadowed with a dark stubble. He hadn't slept. For the first time in his life, there was a visible fracture in his perfect, iron-clad control—a desperate, dark look in his eyes that made his analysts look anywhere but at him."Port of Solaria is locked down, sir," said Renner, his head of security, his voice strained. "Facial recognition is running at every terminal. If she boards a flight or a boat, we catch her.""She didn't go to the port," Alistair said, his voice dangerously quiet."Sir, a woman in her condition—""You don't understand her," Alistair snapped, the sudden venom
Last Updated : 2026-06-26 Read more