Maya had never believed in luck—only leverage. Only pressure. Only the sharp edge of necessity that pushed people to betray themselves. And tonight, she planned to use all three.

The steel-gray sky hung low above Davin’s satellite company, a cold and faceless building that mirrored the man who owned it. Maya stood on the rooftop of the adjacent structure, wind tearing at her coat, the city glittering beneath her like a broken promise.

Rafael arrived late—of course he did. Always dramatic. Always refusing to admit he worried for her.

“You picked the worst possible place for a meeting,” he muttered, pushing back his messy hair.

Maya didn’t look at him....