He looked small.

He looked like a child begging for a toy that had been taken away.

“You don’t have any money left, Arthur,” I said.

“The feds froze the Cayman accounts ten minutes ago.”

“They had the seizure orders pre-signed.”

“All they needed was the confirmation of the transfer.”

“By tomorrow morning, you won’t even be able to pay your lawyers.”

Arthur’s eyes went dark.

He let out a low, guttural cry and lunged toward me again.

But he was too slow.

Julian stepped forward and brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Arthur’s head.

There was a dull crack.

Arthur fell back onto the floor, his eyes rolling back.

He lay still, his face pressed against the wet wood.

The rain poured through the broken window, pooling around his head.

Julian wiped his hands on his coat.

“He always was too emotional,” Julian said.

He looked back at me.

“My offer stands, Clara.”

“I can protect you from the aftermath.”

“There’s going to be a lot of blood in the next forty-eight hours.”