The night after Alexander declared war on The Vanguard, Emily woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep with an intensity that bordered on obsessive even by his standards.
"Alexander?" She sat up, concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." But his voice was tight, controlled in that way that meant he was wrestling with something profound. "Get dressed. Something elegant. We're going out."
"At 2 AM?"
"Yes." His eyes were burning with that dangerous focus she'd learned meant he'd made a decision that would change everything. "There's something I need to do. Something I should have done weeks ago."
Thirty minutes later, Emily found herself in the back of Alexander's car, speeding through Hong Kong's empty streets. They weren't heading toward any restaurant or hotel she recognized. Instead, the car pulled up to an unmarked building in Central—sleek and modern, with no signage or indication of what it was.
