The ride back from the facility was as silent as the ride out, but the air in the cabin had changed. It felt static, charged with a current that made
Sarah keep a safe distance from me in the front seat. She didn't look at my hand. She knew better.
I didn't need the ring. My own body was vibrating with a new, cold frequency. I wasn't the prey. I wasn't the trophy.
When we pulled into the Vane Tower garage, the internal clock on the dashboard read 3:45 PM.
My orientation briefing with the Montgomery compliance team was scheduled for four. I had precisely fifteen minutes to erase the visual evidence of the woman who had just wept over her father and build the woman who would execute Julian Vane.
I went straight to the penthouse bathroom. I didn't turn on the overhead lights; the low-
