The call came just after midnight.

Alyssa was still in her office, city lights bleeding through the glass walls like veins of fire, when her secure line vibrated once—sharp, deliberate. She didn’t answer immediately. Midnight calls were never kind.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Talk,” she said.

Maya’s voice came through, hoarse but controlled. “You’re about to lose the Marseille branch.”

Alyssa straightened. “Explain.”

“Davin didn’t build that network alone,” Maya continued. “He left ghosts behind. One of them just woke up—and he’s using the Marseille branch as leverage. Internal sabotage. Legal pressure. Frozen logistics. You have forty-eight hours before it collapses.”

Silence stretched between them.

Alyssa finally...