The offices of Sterling International Bank did not look like a place that handled money; they looked like a fortress built to survive an apocalypse. Perched on the highest ridge of Aurelia's financial district, the tower was a monolith of dark, polarized glass and brushed titanium.
Silas Thorne adjusted his cuffs as the private elevator hummed upwards. He looked at Jake, who was quietly staring at his reflection in the polished metal panel. Samuel Carter stood slightly behind them, his leather briefcase looking thin compared to the sheer scale of the institution they were entering.
