Xavier’s POV

The secure room smelled like ozone and burned paper screens bleeding red, numbers collapsing. I kept my hands on the table because if I didn’t, I’d start moving them, pacing, doing anything that wasn’t looking straight at the falling lines.

“Don’t tell me, Zayne. Tell Daphne.” My voice was flat. If he was going to commit, he needed to commit to her, not to me.

“It started in Zurich fifteen minutes ago,” Zayne said, not touching the screen.

“Then Tokyo. Now ...