The silver invitation card lay on Alexander’s dark wooden desk. The crest of the Aegis Syndicate, a crescent moon wrapped in thorny vines, seemed to catch the soft light of the office lamps.
Marcus closed the heavy office door and turned to Alexander and Clara. "I ran a full check on Julian Ross. Everything he said checks out. His father was the head of security for the High Council twenty years ago. Julian took over his father's seat three years ago."
"And the summit in Geneva?" Clara asked, resting her hands on the edge of the desk.
"It's real," Marcus replied, looking grim. "Once a year, the nine founding families of the Syndicate meet at a private estate in the Swiss Alps to divide their global territory. It is the most heavily guarded private gathering in Europe."
Alexander stood
