(Lena’s POV)

The flash drive in Victoria Kane’s manicured fingers gleamed under the cold fluorescent light like a drop of poison.

She wasn’t smiling in the usual warm, magazine-cover way. This was sharper — like she was holding the last card in a high-stakes poker game and was daring me to fold.

“You’re quiet, Lena,” she said, the syllables slow and deliberate, as though she were savoring them. “I’d think you’d have more questions.”

I crossed my arms. It was a ...