The morning came like a blade. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

Carson stood in the private conference room of Wills Enterprises, the skyline burning gold beyond the glass. His team, four men, all silent, all dangerous, waited for orders.

On the screen behind him glowed a single name:

Lucien Hale.

The man who had nearly destroyed Justina.

Carson’s tone was clipped, decisive. “I want every offshore account he’s touched, every flight he’s booked, every alias he’s used in the past five years. ...