Zara
By the time I leave the clubhouse, my body feels hollowed out by numbers.
Locke and I spent eight hours hunched over accounts, company names, transfers, dates, properties, every ugly little thread Knox had tied to me without permission. By five o’clock my head was full of routing numbers and shell corporations, while my side ached badly enough that Locke had finally stopped asking if I was okay, and started looking at me like he was one bad answer away from carrying me out himself.
I should be terrified by everything that we uncovered, and part of me definitely is. But beneath the fear, beneath the anger, there’s something else now.
Direction.
For the first time, Knox doesn’t feel like a shadow I’m trying to outrun, he feels like a man with weaknesses… and we’re starting to find
