Marcus’s face darkened, the lines around his mouth deepening.

“That money is secure,” Marcus muttered, though his voice lacked its previous certainty.

“It was secure,” Vincent corrected him. “Until ten minutes ago.”

I watched Marcus’s eyes widen slightly in the firelight.

“You couldn’t touch those accounts,” Marcus said. “Only my brother had the keys.”

“Your brother is greedy,” Vincent said. “And my accountants are very thorough.”

Marcus stared at Vincent, his chest heaving as the implication began to sink in.

“Where is the money, Vincent?” Marcus growled, his voice dropping an octave.

Vincent did not answer immediately.

He looked over at the burning car, then back at Marcus.

“It is in transition,” Vincent said. “And you are out of time.”

Suddenly, the phone in Marcus’s pocket began to ring.

The sound was sharp and piercing in the tense silence of the courtyard.

Marcus did not take his eyes off Vincent as he reached into his coat and pulled out the device.

He pressed it to his ear.

“Speak,” Marcus commanded.

As Marcus listened to the voice on the other end, the expression on his face changed from anger to pure terror.