SHATTERED VOWS
he replied without slowing, “you are exactly what they want. That makes you fragile.”
That shut her up.
Marcus Stone appeared at the stairwell landing like he’d been summoned by instinct alone, earpiece crackling, gun already in his hand. His eyes flicked over Isabelle in a rapid assessment, alive, upright, terrified.
“Black sedan is compromised,” Marcus said. “Secondary vehicle ready on Forty-Eighth.”
“Clear the floor,” Dante ordered. “No press. No delays.”
They moved fast.
Isabelle barely registered the chaos around her security shouting into radios, doors slamming, people scattering like startled birds. All she could feel was the USB drive burning in her palm, a small thing with the weigh
Bab Populer