Chapter 42 The Hour of the Wolf

The night was a predator. It stalked the corridors of the hotel, slipped through the gaps under the door, and breathed a cold silence into the suite. I didn’t sleep. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford, a vulnerability I couldn’t risk. Instead, I sat in the darkened living room of my own adjoining suite, a glass of untouched water in my hand, the city lights a distant, indifferent galaxy beyond the window.

The USB drive was on the table in front of me. It looked innocuous, a piece of cheap plastic and metal. But it was a bomb. And I had no idea if I was holding it or if it was programmed to detonate in my hand. The woman from the café, Maya, Charles—they were all moving pieces on a board I couldn’t fully see. My only move, for now, was to wait.

Around three in the morning, a sound cut through the quiet. It was faint, almost imperceptible. The soft click of a door latch. I was on my feet in an instant, my body moving with a fluid, silent grace born of years of suppressed adrenaline. I didn’t turn on a light. I moved to the wall adjoining the suite I’d given Maya and Leo, pressing my ear against the cool, smooth wallpaper.

...