Alexander Kane

The van’s interior was a pressure cooker of sweat, adrenaline, and the acrid burn of Marco’s overheating laptop. Bucharest’s data center was under Interpol raid, live feed crackling on a secondary screen, but the dark web bounty on the Vasquezes had just doubled to twenty million, a neon-red pulse screaming across Marco’s monitors. Victor, cuffed in a black-site cell, was still pulling strings. The packet was neutralized, its secrets trapped in Marco’s sandbox, but the ...