The following night—
The Citadel's main control room remained dim.
The only real light came from the projections hovering above the long conference table. Blue-white holograms floated in layered stacks, rotating slowly, data streaming across their surfaces in quiet cycles.
At the head of the table stood Gary.
Hands clasped behind his back.
Posture straight.
Several screens hovered directly in front of him—financial records, surveillance stills, movement logs, timestamps. His eyes moved from one to another without hurry.
Across from him sat Elle.
She sat properly—back aligned with the chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other. Her elbow rested against the armrest, fingers supporting her chin as she studied the projections before her.
Multiple windows overlapped in her field of view.
Property transfers.
Offshore account trails.
Old passport scans.
She narrowed her eyes slightly and adjusted one of the panels with a subtle swipe of her fingers.
Beside her—
