"He's bluffing," Damian said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the silent penthouse. He stepped closer to the desk, his eyes locked on the glowing screen of Clara’s burner phone. "Julian doesn't have the original blueprints. You told me those were destroyed years ago."

Clara

"He froze Thorne Capital's primary liquid assets. The SEC is already knocking on the door of my downtown office, waving a warrant for corporate espionage."

Damian’s voice was dangerously calm, but the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel of the mobile command van betrayed

The two technicians stared at Clara, frozen in their ergonomic chairs. The glow of a dozen monitors painted their pale faces in hues of electric blue and stark white. Below them, visible through the soundproof glass, the auditorium was a sea of thousands, all hanging on Julian Vance’s every word.

"