Darian Wolfe
I sit in my penthouse, feeling the city’s energy. The skyline rises sharply against the night sky. My fingers rest on my phone, and its light creates shadows on my desk. Viper's name stares back at me, a lifeline to control in a world spinning out of my grasp.
I had left the wallet on Maria's desk with intention, a GPS tracking device and mic concealed inside, an unblinking ear to her every move. She was supposed to pick it up, bring my eyes and ears into her life, but Naomi—s**t, that b***h—swiped it out from under me. My jaw clenches, the leather of the chair squeaking as I call Viper.
"Boss," his voice comes through, sharp and corporate. "What's the plan?"
"Naomi's got the wallet," I growl, my voice low, laced with irritation. "She's in my way, sniffing too close. Put
