Night had covered Manhattan, but inside the war room on the top floor of Cross Industries, the lights burned like fire.
Isla paced in front of the central screen, maps and data feeds lighting up her face in pulses of cold blue and red. Every wiretap, every transaction, every known Dominion front—they were laying it bare.
Gabriel leaned against the desk beside her, voice low.
“Devlin’s removal sent shockwaves. Virex stock dipped almost instantly. Three smaller companies pulled out of their silent partnerships with them this morning.”
“Good,” Isla said, sharp and focused.
“We got them from the inside. One thread at a time.”
The sound of polished shoes hitting against the concrete floor cut through the air. Damien stepped in, a thick file in one hand, his black shirt was buttoned-down j
