The ledger was heavier than it looked. Its worn leather cover pressed against his ribs, the edges digging into his side with each jarring step. Cole ran through the narrow streets of Berlin, his boots slapping against the wet cobblestones, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The cold air burned his lungs, each inhale a knife of ice that scraped against his throat. The ledger was tucked inside his jacket, pressed against his chest, its weight a constant reminder of what he was carrying.
The street was empty, the buildings dark. The only light came from a distant streetlamp that flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. He could hear his own heartbeat, a steady thrum that seemed to echo through the silence. He could hear the faint sound of footsteps behind
