“Excellent.” The word slithered from Julian’s lips, his smile a predatory curve. He thought he had me. He thought he’d turned Sterling’s prized weapon back on its creator. “I knew you were a pragmatist.”
He moved to a steel credenza, his movements fluid. A soft beep, a hidden drawer sliding open. He produced a slim flash drive, holding it between two fingers as if it were a sacrificial offering.
“The genesis of the Kincaid takedown,” he said, his voice a low hum of satisfaction. Your father’s proposal, their correspondence, my father’s notes. "Everything.” He held it out, not quite letting go. “But this is a transaction, Blair. Your information first.”
My pulse was a frantic drum against my ribs. This was the precipice. The lie had to be perfect—valuable enough to be believed, flawed en
