I returned to the safehouse in the Outer Harbour later that afternoon, shedding the Julian Croft persona the moment the heavy steel door locked behind me.
The suit came off first. Navy jacket. Dress shirt. Tie. All of it went into the burn bag by the door. The fabric was stiff with sweat. I rolled my shoulders and felt the bruises from last night pull across my ribs. The elevator shaft. The stairwell. The climb. My body was still paying for it.
The tactical command center was buzzing with activity. Low voices. The hum of servers. The smell of coffee and gun oil.
Ethan was at the main station, reviewing security footage from the Jade Palace on three monitors. He had a headset on and was rewinding the same 10 seconds over and over. A delivery truck. Nothing. Rewind. He hadn't slept.
