"The Shadow Board," Cyprian repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse.
The SUV sped down the coastal highway, putting miles between us and the police station, but the distance felt negligible. The image of the hourglass tattoo was burned into my retinas.
"They aren't a myth?" Oryn signed from the front seat, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror, checking for a tail.
"They're real," I said, leaning forward to tap on the console screen. "In my... market research, I found traces of them. They’re a consortium of old money and new tech. They control the regulatory bodies, the shipping lanes, and the media consolidation. They don't run companies; they run the people who run the companies."
"And Lysander was their puppet," Cyprian deduced, his face grim. "That explains why he su
