Rafael didn’t sleep that night.

Sleep had become a luxury ever since he realized something fundamental had shifted—not just the war against Davin, but Alyssa herself. She had crossed lines. Ethan had erased trails. Maya had started moving like a queen instead of a survivor. And Rafael? He had been left standing between them all, holding truths sharp enough to cut his own hands.

The city outside his apartment glowed with indifferent neon. Screens flickered. Data flowed. Lies multiplied.

Rafael sat in front of six monitors, sleeves rolled up, eyes bloodshot but focused. On the main screen was Davin’s corporate empire mapped like a nervous system—subsidiaries, shell companies, offshore accounts,...