The new headquarters was a converted factory on the outskirts of Brussels, its walls reinforced, its security extensive. Rook stood at the window, his eyes fixed on the city beyond, the weight of the last month pressing down on him like something that had finally found its place.
The network with Dimitri Volkov was operational, but it was different from anything Rook had built before. It was independent—truly independent, not dependent on Kruger or Petrov or Mikhail or any of the other players who'd been part of the old system. It was accountable only to its own board of directors, and it was committed to making a difference in a broken world.
But the independence came at a cost. Rook had left behind the alliances he'd built—Kruger, Petrov, Mikhail, all of them. They were still out there
