The crushing, suffocating weight of what he had just done settled over his shoulders.
He had just bought a massacre. Blood was officially on his ledger.
He closed his eyes, listening to the dark, churning water of the East River slapping against the concrete.
He pictured the Italian man's cigar smoke and Diana bound and wrecked on the desk. He pictured the flashing paparazzi cameras hunting Zara.
He opened his eyes. The nausea in his gut vanished, flash-frozen by an absolute, terrifying resolve.
He turned his back on the river and walked toward the street.
The moment Ryan stepped into the back of a yellow cab on Queens Boulevard, his personal phone vibrated violently against his thigh.
It wasn't the burner. It was the System.
He pulled the sleek device from his pocket. The black-and-white interface of the Interest Protocol dominated the screen, pulsing with a heavy, aggressive urgency he hadn't seen before.
> EXPENDITURE RECOGNIZED: REVENGE
