The building was a cathedral of secrets—a sprawling estate on the outskirts of Brussels that had been off the grid for decades. Rook stood across the street, his eyes fixed on the wrought-iron gates, the weight of the next step pressing down on him like something that had been waiting for this exact moment.
Wick's intelligence had been precise. The thread that had eluded her for so long finally led here—to the heart of the conspiracy, to the one who'd been pulling the strings from the very beginning. The one who'd orchestrated the partnership, the old guard, the Collective, Yakov, Volkov, Elena. The one who'd been playing everyone like pieces on a chessboard.
Irina moved up beside him, her voice low and careful. "The surveillance is in place. We've got eyes on all the exits."
Rook was q
