Ethan didn't find the source of the number by morning. He didn't find it by the next afternoon either.
"Whoever's behind this either has real money or real patience," he told Damien over breakfast, tablet balanced on one knee, dark circles under his eyes almost matching Damien's now. "Could be both. Every relay dead-ends somewhere I can't push past without tools I don't have clearance for."
"Get the clearance," Damien said.
"That means calling in a favor from someone outside the club," Ethan said carefully. "Someone who'll want something back."
"Call them," Damien said. "Whatever they want, I'll pay it."
Odette watched this exchange over her eggs, feeling less like a girlfriend, fake or otherwise, and more like a line item in a security budget that kept growing every day. She didn't s
