Reginald came up out of the chair so fast the blanket slid off his knees and pooled at his feet, the untouched cup of tea rattling against its saucer. "What are you talking about? That's not possible." His voice cracked on the last word, with something that refused, point blank, to let the sentence sit in the room any longer than it had to. Darius rose slowly from where he'd knelt, watching his grandfather's face for the crumble he half expected and didn't quite see. What he saw instead was denial, the kind that came from a man who had spent his whole life deciding who could and could not be trusted, and did not enjoy being told he'd gotten it wrong. "Grandpa, you need to sit down—" "No." Reginald's hand came up, cutting him off. "Whatever investigation you are doing, you need to halt it. If you are not my grandson, I know what I'd have done to you." "You need to calm down Grandpa... I'm not done talking." "Malcolm Kane has sat at th

"The lab isn't backwater, Dr. Kane. It's one of the top toxicology facilities in Europe, and the report was cross verified twice before it ever reached this room." Darius explained. "Then your European lab doesn't know Reginald's medical history the way I do," Kane snapped, color rising in his face now, the bubbly warmth from earlier entirely gone. Now, he was simply defensive. "I have cared for this man for over a decade. Do you know how many times I've saved his life? I sat with him through two hospitalizations. I have never, not once, prescribed anything that wasn't in his absolute best interest, and I resent the implication otherwise, from a charity case especially, someone I've never even heard of until ten minutes ago." "That may be," Darius said, unmoved, "but the report doesn't lie, and neither does the supply chain. Every prescription filled for Mr. Argent in the last decade passed through Vanguard Pharmaceuticals. A company you've owned outright since b

Darius found himself facing a man in a black hoodie, a mask covering most of his face, the gun discreetly angled against Darius's side. Darius studied him for a long moment before speaking. "Why are you following me?" "Don't ask me stupid questions." The man's voice was flat, and deep. He tried to guess who it was, but he couldn't recall anyone with green eyes. "Just follow me." A faint, humorless smile tugged at Darius's lips. "Follow you where, exactly?" "Ask me again," the man warned, voice dropping lower, "and I put a bullet in you right here." Darius's eyes flicked briefly around them — the library entrance, the pathway lights, the small crowd of students still standing nearby. He let out a short, almost amused breath before nodding toward a spot just above the man's shoulder. "You see that?" Darius said, voice calm, casual and conversational. "Camera. And that one, by the bench. And another mounted just above the library door. Three c

The plan Natasha laid out three days later was almost insultingly simple, which was, she insisted, exactly the point. "Vanguard runs a rotating contract staff for their packaging and logistics floor," she said, sliding a manila folder across the centre table toward Darius. "Temp workers. Two-week placements through a staffing agency called Brightline. Nobody remembers their faces. Nobody checks twice." Darius flipped the folder open. Inside was a laminated badge with his photograph on it, a name that wasn't his, 'D. Marsh' and a company lanyard still smelling faintly of new plastic. "You forged an ID." "I forged a job," Natasha corrected, not looking up from her laptop. "The ID is just the part you'll be wearing." Charlie, perched from where he was sitting with a bag of chips he hadn't touched, let out a low whistle. "You're actually doing this. Walking into the belly of the beast disguised as a factory worker." "I'm

It was around after six in the evening when Kimberley heard the knock on her door. Kimberley set down the mug of tea she'd been nursing on her couch and frowned at the door. She wasn't expecting anyone — not since her circle of visitors had shrunk to almost nothing after the fallout with Darius. All she did these days, was go for her rounds and return back to her apartment. No social activities or flying above the radar. She pulled the door open, and her breath caught. Valerio stood in her doorway, immaculate as always, his dark coat draped over broad shoulders. His eyes swept over the small apartment before settling back on her face, amused. "Valerio?" Kimberley's voice came out sharper than she intended, laced with disbelief. "What are you doing here?" "Is that any way to greet a guest?" he said, one corner of his mouth curling upward, his tone light, almost teasing. Though his eyes remained calculating, cataloguing every detail of her;