Time moved like a dull knife. Every second cut, but never quite severed.
Clara sat at the dining table in her apartment, her phone lying in front of her. The clock on the wall read two in the morning. Sean had given her twenty-four hours—and she knew he never gave empty deadlines.
The last message from the encrypted channel flashed through her mind again.
"Leo isn't alone. But our time is running out."
It wasn't a comforting statement. It was a warning.
Clara took a deep breath. For the first time since all this began, she stopped thinking of Sean as her ex-husband. He was now nothing more than an active threat—someone to be faced with a cool head, not emotion.
She typed a short message to Leo's people.
"I'll pretend to comply.
Don't stop the plan.
Make sure Leo survives."
A reply came a few minutes later.
"We understand. Don't act on your own.
Sean is dangerous when he feels he's winning."
Clara closed her phone.
"That's exactly it," she murmured softly.
