The torrential downpour that had battered Obsidian City all night finally ceased, leaving only the heavy, rhythmic thud of water dripping from the eaves.
Avery leaned against the headboard of Dorothea's bed, having not slept a single wink. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she was still wearing the evening gown from the night before, now thoroughly saturated with the metallic scent of blood from the study.
She unclasped her handbag and retrieved the encrypted phone she kept concealed inside the lining.
Dominic's intelligence network was an iron web. Any long-winded email or frequent call would instantly trip the internal interceptors of the Kessler estate and trigger an alarm.
She could leave absolutely no footprint.
Opening the chat history with Sophia, she typed a single symbol:
