I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air seeping through the stone walls.

The Morozovs had been trying to find my primary vault for five years.

“What did they give you?” I asked.

“A way out,” Caleb said, a sudden spark of desperation in his eyes. “A clean slate.”

“There is no clean slate for treason,” I said.

“They promised me a villa in Spain,” Caleb whispered, his head sagging. “New identities for my family. Ten million in a Swiss account.”

He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for some shred of the friendship we had shared for nearly two decades.

“I just wanted to be done with the blood, Adrian,” he said. “I wanted to be done with the hiding.”

“So you gave them the keys to my life,” I said.

“I gave them the coordinates to the three main vaults,” he admitted. “The ones in the northern ridge.”

My hand went cold.

Those vaults contained the core assets of my entire operation, including the documents that proved Lila’s true identity.

If the Morozovs opened those vaults, my daughter would never be safe again.