The rainy streets of Northport felt different tonight. In her past life, the rain was a shroud; tonight, it was a baptism. Evelyn leaned back in the plush leather seat of her private car, watching the neon lights of the city blur against the window. She knew exactly where she was going.
The Obsidian Club.
It was a private cigar lounge that didn't appear on any maps, the unofficial headquarters of Liam Sterling. In her previous life, Liam was a ghost—a "Titan of Industry" whose name was whispered with equal parts reverence and terror. He had died in a "freak accident" only months after Evelyn's own demise. She realized now that they were both pieces on the same chessboard, moved by the same unseen hand.
When the car pulled up to the nondescript steel door, her driver looked hesitant. "Miss Vance, this isn't a place for... well, for someone like you."
"On the contrary, Arthur," Evelyn said, adjusting the collar of her trench coat. "It's the only place I belong."
She stepped out and approached the two massive security guards flanking the door. They moved to block her path, their expressions as immovable as granite.
"Members only," the larger one grumbled. "Go home, little girl."
Evelyn didn't flinch. She leaned in, her voice low and steady. "Tell Mr. Sterling that I have an update regarding Project Aegis. Tell him the 'White Knight' is actually a Trojan Horse, and if he doesn't see me in the next sixty seconds, his server farm in Singapore will be ashes by midnight."
The guard's eyes widened. Project Aegis was Liam's most classified venture—a defense system that wasn't even public knowledge yet. He spoke into his earpiece, his gaze never leaving Evelyn's face. After a tense silence, he stepped aside and opened the door.
The interior was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and old money. At the very back, bathed in the amber glow of a single lamp, sat a man.
Liam Sterling was more intimidating in person than in the magazines. He had sharp, architectural features and eyes the color of a winter sea. He didn't look up as she approached; he was focused on a crystal glass of amber liquid.
"You have five minutes," he said. His voice was a deep, resonant rumble that sent a shiver down Evelyn's spine. "And if you've lied to me, you'll find that Northport is a very small city to hide in."
Evelyn sat across from him, crossing her legs with practiced poise. "I don't need five minutes, Mr. Sterling. I only need your attention."