Page 93

He asks, "What do you think?"

I look at him.

The question shouldn't matter, but it does, because after everything we've just said, he is deliberately asking for my judgment.

I turn back to the data.

"I think we misunderstood Karras."

"How?"

"He wasn't controlling the network."

I bring up the timeline.

"Look at the redundancies. Different companies. Different access points. Some routes overlap with him; others don't. He wasn't the structure. He was inside it."

"A participant."

"A replaceable participant."

I trace the newest transaction farther. The network didn't pause when Karras died. It simply kept moving.

I sit back slowly. Adrianos's expression darkens as he reaches the same conclusion. I turn the monitor toward him and tap the timestamp.

"That moved forty-three minutes after you killed him."

His eyes remain fixed on the screen. I should resist voicing my thought, but I don't.

"Congratulations. You executed middle management."

His jaw tightens. Normally, I might enjoy that, but tonight I do not. Karras being less important than we thought does not make me right. It makes the situation worse. Someone else can trigger the transfers. Someone else controls the intermediaries. Someone else knows the network well enough that the death of a man who served the Crown for decades does not even cause a delay. Karras was not the architect. He was a cog, and the machine is still running.

Adrianos straightens beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him without either of us touching. Our argument isn't resolved. I'm still angry. He's still the man who would probably make the same terrible decision again. And I'm still the woman who will fight him when he does.

But when I look at him, I can no longer hide behind attraction, proximity, or shared danger. The truth is much simpler. Much worse.

I love him.

I love a man whose instincts sometimes terrify me. A man I refuse to become. A man I may spend half my life arguing with if we survive long enough to have one.

I don't tell him.

Not yet. Instead, I turn back to the screen where another tiny movement joins a reservoir worth hundreds of millions.

Karras is dead, but the money is still moving. And somewhere above him, someone is still giving orders.

26

Adrianos

Karras has been dead for less than six hours, and the network has already proved it doesn't care.

I stand behind Elena's chair in her apartment, staring at the transaction that moved forty-three minutes after I put a bullet through the banker's chest. Two point eight million euros passed through a structure Karras never mentioned, crossed two settlement vehicles, and disappeared into one of the reserve accounts as smoothly as if nothing had happened.

No hesitation. No interruption. No sign that losing a man who spent decades serving the Crown caused even the smallest inconvenience.

That bothers me more than anything Karras said.