“I will be there,” I said.

“Arden,” Graham said, turning his head back toward me as they began to lead him away.

His eyes were bloodshot, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

“Please,” he said.

“Don’t do this to the boys.”

“You did this to them when you signed the first transfer,” I said.

The officers guided him through the heavy glass doors.

A black sedan was idling at the curb, its blue and red lights flashing against the brick facade of the courtyard.

I watched through the glass as they placed a hand on his head and helped him into the back seat.

The door shut with a heavy, muted thud.

The sedan pulled away, merging into the morning traffic on the boulevard.

My phone vibrated again in my palm, a steady, rhythmic pulse that recalled me to the present.

The screen showed the red warning banner of the internal security system.

Terminal 4B, located on the executive level, was attempting to bypass the secondary firewall.

That was Bianca’s terminal.

I looked at the mahogany paneling of the elevator bank.