“Vance, listen to me,” Richard stammered, raising his hands. “The girl is a clerk. She doesn’t know the whole deal.”

“She knows enough,” Vance said, his voice flat.

One of Vance’s men pulled out a rugged satellite phone and tapped the screen.

He whispered something into the receiver, his expression hardening.

He looked up and nodded at Vance.

“The accounts are frozen,” the man said. “The Salvi key was flagged.”

Victor Salvi let out a dry, rattling chuckle.

“My keys are very difficult to copy, Richard,” Victor said. “And my banks are very quick to lock down.”

Declan took three steps forward, his boots heavy on the concrete.

He stopped just ten feet from my father, his massive frame casting a long shadow.

“You tried to sell my weapon depots to the city council’s task force too, didn’t you?” Declan asked.

“Maeve told me about the double-entry logs last week.”

My father looked at me, his eyes full of venom. “You little snake.”

“I am a Callahan,” I said quietly. “I learned how to survive from you.”

In my coat pocket, the physical copy of the finalized ledgers pressed against my ribs.