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Another.

This is not optional.

My heart begins pounding so hard I hear it in my ears.

More messages cascade in.

She is becoming a problem.

You had one task.

If she speaks before tonight, this falls on you.

My throat closes.

She.

Delaney Cross?

It has to be her.

Unless—

No.

Don’t spiral.

Read.

Remember.

The phone vibrates again.

My breath catches.

A text, sent at this very moment.

Do it tonight.

32

NATHANIEL

Cain enters my office without knocking. Again.

I look up from the VexleyARC plans still spread across my desk.

I roll my eyes. “Twice in as many days? What the hell do you want now?”

“I thought we might talk.”

“We’re talking.”

“Then perhaps I thought we might do something less obvious while we do.” He looks toward the chessboard near the fireplace.

The set is old, the pieces carved from ivory. My grandfather’s and then my father’s and then somehow mine because I was the only son who kept the pieces polished and the board aligned.

Samson hates chess. He calls it a coward’s war. Too slow. Too bloodless.