Alexander Hayes sat in his study, a room that hadn’t changed in thirty years. Dark wood paneling absorbed the lamplight, and leather-bound books lined the walls—not for show, but worn with use.

The old grandfather clock in the corner ticked away the seconds as he studied the documents spread across his desk.

“The evidence is conclusive,” Sterling said, standing by the window. “The poison they’re using on Damian – it’s experimental. Designed to mimic a natural illness while being virtually untraceable.”

Jackson paced the room, unable to contain his restlessness. “How did you get this information?”

“One of the research scientists at Blackwood Pharmaceuticals had an attack of conscience,” Sterling...