I stood on the roof of the clubhouse at midnight, gun in one hand, folder in the other.
Forty hours until the attack. Forty hours until everything ended.
Grace slept five floors below with three armed guards. Albert was in emergency surgery again—his hands failing, infection spreading. Knox was coordinating defenses that felt increasingly pointless.
And I was on a roof, seriously considering stepping off.
"You are not going to jump."
I spun. Victoria Blake stood behind me, somehow having bypassed all our security.
"How did you—"
"I have been breaking into buildings since I was twelve. Your security is good, but not that good." She moved closer, hands visible and empty. "I came because I knew. Knew you would be here, contemplating the easy way out."
"It is not easy. It is logical. J
