Marcus fell asleep sitting up on his sofa, shoes still on, phone face down, a list half-typed in Notes: Fix the filings. Apologize without camera. Stop pretending.

“Congratulations,” someone said. He looked down and realized his hand was around Blair’s wrist.

“Marcus,” Blair whispered. “Look.”

Men in masks. Guns. Shouts. Marcus grabbed for Blair automatically, pulling her behind him. “Stay down.”

One of the ...