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“I’ll need to review the full scope before I commit to anything,” I say.

“Of course. I’ll have the documentation sent through secure channels once you’ve signed the preliminary NDA.” He stands, extending his hand again. “Thank you for your time, Davina. I think this could be a strong partnership.”

I shake his hand. His grip is the same as before.

As he walks out, I watch him go. Something about the way he moves sticks with me the rest of the morning.

Sienna finds me twenty minutes later, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.

“Well?”

I close my laptop. “He wants me for a government contract. Something about foreign financial systems and money laundering.”

“Sounds sexy.”

“Hardly. Sounds complicated.”

She pushes off the doorframe and drops into the chair Ethan just vacated. “What did you think of him?”

I consider the question. “He’s sharp. Knows more about my work than he should. Direct in a way that’s either refreshing or suspicious, depending on how you look at it.”

Sienna raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“What did you think of him, Dav? Not his credentials. Him.”

I feel my neck warm slightly. “He was professional.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Clean-cut.” I pause. “Is that what you want me to say?”

She grins. “I’m just saying there’s something about a man in a well-fitted suit who actually knows what he’s talking about. It’s a rare combination.”

“He’s a government contractor, Sienna.”

“You’re a hacker who plays by the rules. You have more in common than you think.”

I roll my eyes, but her words stick with me longer than I want them to.

I think about it for the rest of the afternoon, turning the conversation over in my head. He’s right about one thing. I do see walls differently than most people. I see the structure underneath, the places where the mortar is weak, the spots where pressure will make the whole thing crumble without anyone noticing until it’s too late.

Chapter Two - Maxim

The report lands on my desk at 7:14 a.m.

I know the exact time because I check the clock right away. Everything in my life runs on precision: schedules, systems, consequences. It’s how I’ve stayed alive this long, and it’s how the men under me stay alive too.

The report is from Kirill, my head of network security. It’s three pages of technical analysis describing anomalous traffic patterns detected in our secondary financial routing layer. The language is careful, which it always is.

I set it down and look out the window of my office. The estate stretches below. It’s twenty acres of maintained grounds, but it functions like a fortress. Beyond the walls, the city moves through its morning routines, unaware that the systems governing its underground economy are being watched.

The anomaly is small. A few data packets that shouldn’t be there, routing through nodes that usually sit dormant. Anyone else might dismiss it as background noise. Kirill almost did.

I don’t.

I pick up the phone. “Get me the full access logs for the past seventy-two hours. Not the summary. Everything.”