“The federal government cannot ignore a public ledger of treason and bribery,” he added. “Especially not when it involves federal grants.”

The driver turned the vehicle onto a wider, brighter highway that led toward the city center.

The distant skyline glowed through the low clouds, a cluster of yellow and white lights.

“And his political friends?” I asked. “The ones who kept him safe?”

“They are currently burning their own records,” Damiano said. “No one will touch him now. He is radioactive.”

We rode in silence for several miles, the city rising up around us in towering blocks of concrete and glass.

My mind tried to process the reality of what he was saying.

For two years, Marcus had been an inescapable shadow over my life.

Every corner I turned, every phone call from an unknown number, had carried the threat of his return.

Now, he was being dismantled by the very system he had used to protect himself.

The SUV slowed down, turning into the underground parking garage of a high-rise building.

The tires squealed softly on the smooth concrete floor as we descended into the brightly lit basement.