The digital clock on the secondary monitor in the Sanctum flipped to 1:14 AM.
The forty-second floor was humming with the aggressive, mechanical breath of the server racks in the bunker.
Ryan sat at the massive walnut desk, reviewing the structural frameworks Sophie had drafted for the hostile takeover division.
The math was flawless. The legal architecture was lethal. They were preparing to strip the flesh off the Syndicate's proxy companies before the markets opened on Monday.
He was in absolute control.
Then, his private phone vibrated against the polished wood.
The screen illuminated the dark office.
Iralis.
Ryan picked it up. He didn't expect a call from his systems architect at this hour unless a firewall had failed or the servers were actively burning.
He swiped the screen.
"Report," Ryan said, his voice a low, gravelly baseline in the empty room.
"Ryan."
