“I prefer our final negotiations to be entirely off the grid,” he added, gesturing to the dead electronics.

Declan spat on the concrete floor, his hand still resting on the butt of his pistol.

“You’re late, old man,” Declan said.

“I arrived precisely when the trash was cleared,” Victor replied, looking toward the dark corridor where the mercenaries had taken my father.

Roman did not move, his dark eyes fixed on the leather folder in my hands.

“The girl has the pages,” Roman said, his voice flat and dangerous.

I took three steps forward, the soles of my boots squeaking on the wet concrete.

The air smelled of ozone, burnt oil, and the salty rot of the nearby docks.

I held the thick folder out between the three of them, my fingers steady despite the cold.

“These are the complete ledgers of the Calder City transit docks from the last five years,” I said.

Victor stepped closer, his leather shoes clicking against the grit on the floor.

“Every shipment, every bribe, and every hidden fee,” I continued, opening the cover to show the neat columns of figures.