The young guard stopped, his eyes shifting to the lighter.

“She’s bluffing,” Arthur said, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s an accountant, Elias. She doesn’t destroy assets.”

“I used to be an accountant,” I said.

“Now I am Roman Blackwell’s wife.”

With my left hand, I gripped the top corner of the primary ledger page.

The paper was thick, high-cotton stock.

I pulled downward.

The sound of the page tearing was loud in the small office.

Arthur let out a sharp, choked sound.

“Stop!” he yelled.

I ripped the page completely free from the binding.

Then I grabbed the next sheet, the one containing the Cayman transit routing sequences.

I tore that one out too.

I crumpled the two pages together in my left fist.

“Elias, grab her!” Arthur shouted.

Elias hesitated, his boots squeaking on the polished linoleum.

“If I touch her, Blackwell will have me skinned,” Elias said.

His voice trembled.

“I paid you to get us out of here!” Arthur screamed at him.

“You paid me to open the doors,” Elias said. “You didn’t say Roman would be here himself.”