Marshall swallowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “I’m not trying to make light of it,” he said, quieter now. “I’m trying to be honest about the stakes.”
“Honest?” she echoed. “You’ve been watching me from parking lots and rooftops. You warn me off but only in vague, shadowy terms. I don’t think honesty is what we’re doing here.”
“That’s different.” His voice came out low, rougher than he intended.
Her eyes flicked up. “Why?”
Because I love you. Because I never stopped. Because every time you walk into a building tied to Morris or Hale or whoever’s pulling the strings, I feel like I’m watching you balance on the edge of a live wire.
He didn’t say any of it.
“Because you’re in danger,” he said instead.
“Tell me why. You keep saying this is deeper than I understand. If I’m going to do this for you, I want to know what’s at stake.”
Marshall couldn’t help but admire her at that moment. She was exactly right. She did deserve to know. Every singleoperative at Black Tower who was putting their life on the line knew exactly why.
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I can. And you can decide what you’re willing to risk to help us. We’re not just talking about some accountant cooking books to skim bonus money. This is political. Global. The kind of operation where people vanish for asking the wrong questions.”
Norah swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away.
He took that as permission. “There’s a network funneling money through a lot of innocent-looking conduits. Hedge fund transfers. Corporate shells. Real estate that doesn’t exist. And it’s all leading toward one outcome—elevating the people who want to steer this country into open conflict.
“It started years ago. We’ve all heard wind of the Syndicate for a long time, but they started feeling more...deliberate. They assassinated President Waters. They were behind the Marshand chemical spill. They have sown division into our politics deep enough that people are busy looking at their neighbor as the enemy instead of realizing it's the people in power that are exploiting them. We’ve uncovered link after link of the Syndicate quietly making moves, positioning themselves to claim huge power and profit when their plan falls into place.”
“What plan?”
He glanced out the window, realizing how crazy this whole conspiracy sounded when you laid it out in one go. They’d spent years piecing together everything they could on the Syndicate. But this? It was still a guess. “Everything we have points to a global conflict. Likely involving the Russians, based on who we believe is leading the group.”
“Who?”
Marshall debated, wondering how far down the rabbit hole he should take Norah.
“When President Waters was murdered, we captured the assassin. A man by the name of Yuri Kuznetsov—also known as Darkshade. While he was in our custody, he wouldn’t shut up about someone named Saltykova. He begged us to protect him and insisted that Saltykova wouldn’t let him live after being captured.”
Marshall’s eyes fell to his lap. “Turned out, he was right. We couldn’t protect him, and a sniper took him out before he could talk. Saltykova? We believe she’s Ksenia Sidarov. Russian oligarch widow, old money, old loyalties, and a reputation most men wouldn’t earn in a lifetime. Brutal. Calculated. She’s been linked—quietly—to hostile takeovers, missing political donors, and a handful of ‘unfortunate accidents’ in Moscow’s elite circles. She is beyond ruthless.”
Norah shook her head slowly. “This is crazy, Marshall. You hear yourself, right? I feel like I’m in a Tom Clancy novel.” Her breathing turned shallow, her eyes scanning the parking garage as if the Syndicate might materialize out of the dark.
“I know it’s a lot,” he said gently.
“Geez, Marshall. I thought you were in the military. Not the...the freaking OSS or KGB or whatever.”
“Yep. And I thought I signed up to babysit rich debutantes and handle ransom negotiations when I left the Army and joined Black Tower. But here I am. I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this. But I need you to understand that this isn’t just an Excel error or a bad quarterly report. These are people who erase witnesses who say things they don’t like. You’ve already been flagged. But you’re still not a real threat. Unless you keep going.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “And you think giving your hacker a doorway into Summit is going to help?”
“I think it’s the only way we stay ahead of them,” he said bluntly. “We’re running behind. Joey’s flying blind. Everybreadcrumb you find is something they left there by accident—or to bait you.”
Norah’s gaze sharpened at that. She was too smart not to recognize the truth in it.
“So that’s it?” she whispered. “I keep digging? I hack Summit? I just...cross the line?”
Marshall hesitated, then lowered his voice further, the words almost pulled out of him. “I want to be the one to cross the lines. Not you.” A beat. “That’s my job. It was never supposed to be yours.”
She shook her head, half frustrated, half fond. “You’re impossible.”
A corner of his mouth lifted—the ghost of a smile. “So I’ve been told.”
