“You always were too stubborn for your own good,” he said.

“It’s what made me a good analyst,” I said.

He turned and slipped out through the fire escape door, closing the latch with a soft click.

I stood in the dark for a long time, listening to the hum of the refrigerator.

My fingers were cramped from gripping the knife handle.

I set the blade on the counter with a dull clatter and let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for years.

This apartment was no longer safe.

I grabbed my laptop, the drive, and the secondary key from the table and shoved them into my satchel.

Ten minutes later, I was in the back of a yellow cab, heading toward the military tribunal offices near the Capitol.

The rain started as we crossed the bridge, heavy drops smearing the city lights against the glass.

I had an old access card for the basement archive room of the court building.

It was a secure space, built to block external wireless signals.

If Cole’s associates were tracking my phone, they wouldn’t find me down there.