The descent to the ground floor felt agonizingly slow. Inside the glass-walled elevator, Vivienne stood rigid, her mind racing through a hundred different calculations. Julian stood beside her, his presence a steady, impenetrable wall of calm.

"He triggered it," Vivienne repeated, keeping her voic

The holding room was a masterclass in psychological discomfort. The walls were painted a sickly, institutional beige, and the fluorescent lights hummed with a manic, flickering energy that drilled directly into Vivienne Croft’s skull. She sat on a metal bench bolted to the linoleum floor, her postur

Julian’s penthouse was an eagle’s nest of glass and steel, suspended high above the glittering grid of Manhattan. At two in the morning, the city below was a silent sea of lights, but inside the sprawling library, the atmosphere was electric.

Vivienne sat cross-legged on one of the massive leather