“I don’t intend to,” Adrian replied. “The authorities will be here in ten minutes.”

Marcus’s eyes shifted to the laptop on his desk, which was still open and glowing.

The screen showed a live transfer screen and a flight itinerary.

I stepped closer, my financial training kicking in as I read the numbers on the screen.

He was transferring funds to an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands.

The account number was visible, along with his personal access routing codes.

I memorized the string of sixteen digits, repeating them like a mantra in my head.

Beside the browser window was a digital ticket.

A private charter flight out of Midway Airport, scheduled to depart in two hours.

Destination: Panama City.

Marcus saw me looking at the screen and quickly slammed the laptop shut.

“Don’t look at that,” he spat.

“You’re running,” I said quietly.

“I have resources you can’t even dream of, Emily,” Marcus said, trying to regain his composure. “This city is yours for now, but I will be gone before the police even process this room.”

Adrian stepped between us, blocking Marcus’s view of me.