Manhattan traffic. A privacy screen hummed as it rose,

ur of buildings, the anonymous faces on the sidewalk-anything but the man sitting be

his long legs stretched out, and simply watched her. He was studying h

had dropped into that defensive stance. It wasn't the clums

and familiar compani

age to Marcus. `Run a full spectrum analysis on Isolde Navarro. Highes

residential streets in the city and stopped be

an was already out, standing on t

irectly into a sprawling penthouse. The space was vast, minimalist, and cold, decorated in stark shad

it onto a severe-looking black leather

ay, and a heavy door clicke

e floor-to-ceiling windows were thick, likely bulletproof. The front door had

r, the smoke curling around him as he sto

puter chimed. Marcus

ords would show: Isolde Navarro, daughter of Arthur Navarro. A history of severe PTSD following a traumatic event four y

match the woman with the fighter's refle

ew across the keyboard, bypassing firewalls and slicing through layers of digital security

ide the system

his screens. `ACCESS DENIED. FILE SEALED BY [

clearance. That was a ghost level, reserved for the deepe

ystem responded instantly. `ATTEMPTED BREACH LO

ard, vanished. Wiped clean, not just deleted. It was a d

that signature. That ruthlessly effi

Ro

worked for him six years ago. The one who had completed every mission flawlessly, and then vanished a

htray, not even registering the heat

n't just some clever gold-digger

d by a surge of something far more dangerous: a predatory, exhilar

system, and stood up. He smoothed the front of his

e study door an

s standing by the front door, examining the i

what his new wife