Karina sat tied to a chair in the warehouse.
Blood trickling from her split lip. Defiant despite being caught.
"You can't prove anything," she spat. "The FBI believes I'm credible. Believes every word I told them. You're finished."
"Are we?" Isla pulled up a laptop. "Because we have your phone records. Every call you made to your FBI handler. Every meeting. Every piece of information you passed. All timestamped. All traceable back to you."
"So? I'll say you fabricated it. Say you're trying to frame me because you know I'm telling the truth."
"Except we also have this." Killian held up Isla's phone. "The spyware you installed. With your digital fingerprints all over it. With code that traces back to a hacking service you hired in January. With—" He smiled coldly. "With everything we need to prove you framed my wife."
Karina's confidence wavered. "They won't believe you over me."
