The rain had turned to freezing sleet by the time the armored Escalade crossed back into Manhattan.
The rhythmic, heavy thud of the windshield wipers cutting through the icy slush matched the dark, relentless pounding behind Ryan's ribs.
He sat in the rear of the cabin, the ambient glow of his encrypted phone illuminating the sharp, bruised angles of his face.
Thorne's words still echoed in the pressurized air of the vehicle, a cold reminder of the currency the Syndicate traded in. Extinction. Bloodlines erased.
But Thorne had made a critical miscalculation.
He assumed the threat of physical annihilation would force Ryan to contract, to consolidate his assets and hide behind his legal walls.
He assumed Ryan thought like a businessman trying to protect a margin.
Ryan didn't pull back. He accelerated.
His thumb hovered over the screen, drafting another direct, encrypted message to Sophie.
