Sean’s pulse picked up slightly. Not panic. Just awareness sharpening into something more focused.

He pulled out his phone and texted Max again.

Someone was watching me on campus just now. Gray suit. Gone the second I looked back properly.

The response came faster than usual.

Describe him.

Mid-thirties maybe. Average build. Coffee cup he wasn’t drinking. Positioned to watch the main quad exit.

A pause. Then: That matches a description I picked up from one of Richards’s associated contacts. Come tonight. Earlier if you can. This might be moving faster than I thought.

Sean stood still for a moment, processing.

He thought about Makima. About the building. About the agreement Victor had signed, the agreement that was only as strong as Sean’s ability to enforce it. If someone above Victor was already watching, that agreement might not mean anything at all.

He pulled out his phone and called James.

"Sir?" said James.

"Change of plans," said Sean. "I need you to pick me up now. And James, on the way, I want you watching the mirrors. If anything feels off, tell me."

A brief pause. "Understood, sir. Everything alright?"

"I’m not sure yet," said Sean.

—---------

James pulled up within ten minutes. Sean got in the back, and the Rolls Royce eased away from the curb.

"Where to, sir?" said James.

"Just drive for a few minutes," said Sean. "Nowhere specific. I want to see if anyone’s behind us."

James’s expression in the rearview mirror shifted slightly, more alert now, the professional ease he usually carried giving way to something sharper. "Understood."

They drove through campus streets, then onto a main road heading toward downtown. James took two unnecessary turns, doubling back briefly before correcting course, his eyes flicking to the mirrors more often than usual.

Sean watched the side mirrors and the rear window himself, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Some car holding consistent distance. Someone moving with them, slowing when they slowed, turning when they turned.

Nothing obvious. No repeated sightings of the same vehicle.

But that didn’t mean nothing was there. People who were good at this kind of work didn’t make themselves obvious.

"Anything?" said Sean.

"Nothing I can confirm, sir," said James. "But I’ll keep watching."

Sean leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. The city moved past, indifferent to everything happening underneath its surface. People walking to dinner. Buses pulling away from stops. Normal life continuing while somewhere, someone with resources and patience was apparently paying very close attention to an eighteen-year-old college student who’d gotten in the way of one of their property acquisitions.

He thought about what Victor had said in his office. I’d be very careful, if I were you.

At the time it had sounded like a threat from a beaten man, trying to claw back some dignity on his way out the door. Now it felt like something closer to a warning from someone who genuinely understood what Sean had stepped into.

His phone buzzed.

A text from Makima.

How was your first day back? Danny wouldn’t stop talking about you after he left. I think you’ve officially been adopted into the family whether you wanted that or not.

Sean smiled slightly despite everything else running through his mind.

It was a lot, he typed back. Tell you about it later. Might be home late tonight.

Everything okay?

He hesitated for a moment before responding.

Yeah. Just handling something. Don’t wait up.

Be careful, Makima wrote back. The same two words Danny had used the night before. The same two words that seemed to be following him through every relationship he was building in this life, like everyone close to him could sense something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

Always, Sean typed.

He put his phone away and looked out the window again, watching the city slide past, James’s eyes still flicking to the mirrors every few seconds.

Whatever it was, it was bigger than Victor Hale. Bigger than one building on a street he’d barely known the name of two weeks ago.

He had pulled a single thread expecting to find one corrupt developer underneath.

Instead he’d found the edge of something much larger.

And it had already noticed him.

==============

Max’s Apartment, Evening

Max opened the door before Sean even knocked. He must have been watching from the window.

"You said you saw someone," said Max immediately, stepping back to let Sean in.

"Gray suit. Mid-thirties. Watching the main quad exit. Gone the second I looked back properly," said Sean. He walked into the apartment. The kitchen table was already covered in printouts, more than the last time he’d been here, papers spread across nearly every inch of surface.

"Sit," said Max.

Sean sat.

Max pulled up a folder on his laptop. The screen filled with surveillance-style photographs, the kind pulled from security camera footage, slightly grainy but clear enough to make out faces.

"This is who I think you saw," said Max. He pointed to a man in one of the photographs. Mid-thirties. Average build. Sharp features. Nothing memorable about him at all, which was probably the point. "His name, as far as I can confirm, is Foster. He doesn’t have much of a digital footprint, which in itself tells you something. People who work in the open have footprints. People who work for the kind of operation I’m tracking don’t."

"What operation," said Sean.

Max sat down across from him. His expression was serious in a way Sean hadn’t seen before. Even more serious than when he’d shown Sean the documents on Victor.

"I told you Richards works for three clients," said Max. "Victor was one. I’ve spent the last few days digging into the other two. One of them is a shell entity registered under the name Lockhart Holdings. It owns nothing directly. It funds. It moves money into operations like Victor’s and takes a cut of whatever gets acquired."

"Who owns Lockhart Holdings?" said Sean.

"That’s the problem," said Max.