(Hailey Miller's POV)
Forty-eight hours after Morrow's execution, the tension in the safe apartment had taken on a different quality. It wasn’t the acute, raw fear of being discovered so much as the taut, contained anticipation of a hunter waiting for his trap to spring. Liam seemed to have absorbed whatever calm there was in the room; his presence was the epicenter of a deadly patience. I, by contrast, felt a jittering current under my skin. Every notification from the phone, every flicker on Neri’s screens, sent a new spike through my chest.
Neri, buried in her digital world, was our window into the chaos we were sowing. “The article in Global Finance is gaining traction,” she announced, eyes flicking across multiple monitors. “Two major investment funds have issued statements calling
