The manhunt started within the hour, quiet at first, careful, the kind of search reserved for men with enough money and enough lawyers that a public announcement risked tipping them off before anyone could actually find them.

Ivy and her father were moved to a property Reagan controlled personally, one not even the security detail had access to until they arrived, and Sterling stayed close enough that Ivy could feel the tension radiating off him even asleep, three hours of restless dozing on a couch too small for him, one hand still curled loosely around hers.

"He'll surface," Reagan said quietly, the next morning, spreading printouts across a kitchen table...