I opened the browser and typed in the bank’s offshore login page.My hands trembled as I entered the username and password.
Incorrect password.
I inhaled sharply.
“Relax.Try again,” Creed said calmly.
I reentered the information more carefully this time.The screen loaded.
A two-step authentication prompt appeared.A text code was already pinging the burner phone.
I showed him the screen.
“Enter it,” Creed said.His tone sharpened.
My fingers fumbled as I typed in the code.The screen shifted, and then the account details filled the display.
My breath stalled.
The money was still there.
All of it.
Three million dollars.Untouched.
Creed’s expression didn’t change.“They’re waiting,” he said.
“For what?”I asked.
“For you to move it.”
Cold slid down my spine.“And then?”
His mouth curved—slow.Dangerous.
“Then,” he said quietly, “we make them regret it.”
