Dominic’s POV

Snow falls in thin, slow flakes over Zurich’s industrial quarter a quiet that feels unnatural, like the city’s holding its breath. Inside the warehouse, it’s colder. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones until you stop noticing.

Julian Hart is tied to a chair in front of me. His head hangs forward, breath fogging in uneven bursts. The suit he’s wearing isn’t the sharp, tailored armor he used to hide behind in court; it’s wrinkled, stained, wrong for him now. ...