(Hailey Miller's POV)
The silence inside the safe apartment felt almost physical — thick enough to press against my ribcage. Twelve hours. Twelve hours since we'd handed Silas Morrow over to Pier 42, and each minute felt like a nail driven deeper into a coffin of doubt. Liam stood by the window like a statue of restrained tension, shoulders coiled, jaw fixed. His knuckles, white as bone, dug into the frame as if he
were holding himself together by force alone.
I kept my eyes on the bank of monitors Neri had wired up, letting the scrolling lines of transactions and timestamps wash over me like an unfamiliar language. Accounts, transfers, aliases — a digital underworld that had once been Morrow’s map and now might be our undoing. Caleb slept in the next room, the soft cadence of his brea
