"If you can’t get these dark pools online in five minutes, we’re finished," I snapped, tossing a encrypted slate onto the steel desk.
Jax didn't look up from his screen. "The FBI is pinging every private hub in Midtown, Rhys. If I fire up a shadow floor without proxy routes, Pierce’s legal team will spot the signal in seconds."
"Then let them spot it," I growled, planting both hands on the table. "They think we're buried in the fire at the shipping terminal. They don't know we built a ghost vault under this old bank."
Beneath the historic Manhattan building, the air was cold, smelling of ancient concrete and damp earth. Emergency monitors glowed along the stone walls, casting harsh blue light over our temporary setup.
Vivienne stepped between us, her face pale but her eyes sharp. "Rhys
