The book sat on the coffee table between us, a declaration of war bound in leather. Sterling stared at it, his fury a cold, dangerous pressure in the room.
“Arrogant,” he snarled. “He thinks he can get inside your head.”
“He already has,” I said. "The truth was a shard of ice in my chest. “He found my encrypted email. He knew about my father. He’s not just arrogant, Sterling. He’s dangerous.”
My words cut through his anger, leaving a grim focus. “Which is why you will not contact him.”
“And how do we get information on Nightingale if the only person willing to talk is him?” I challenged. “Your archives are a dead end.”
“I have other resources.” The dismissal in his voice was a stone wall. “My security team is already running a deep dive on Croft.”
But Croft was a ghost. I knew that k
