"If the information leaks ..." He shrugged.
"We know the leak is real." I finished the sentence automatically. Rowan nodded. Exactly. The room fell silent. Because suddenly we weren't discussing theories anymore. We were discussing evidence. The possibility of actual proof.
The possibility of finally knowing. My stomach tightened. Not from excitement. From dread. I hadn’t told him about the scent. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have the proof. And because part of me still hoped I was wrong. Even now. Especially now.
The next forty-eight hours felt endless. Only six people received the false route. Six. No more. No exceptions. The information was carefully distributed. Carefully documented. Carefully controlled. Everything about the operation was designed to eliminate coincidence.
If the e
