Page 71 of Knuckles & Knives

“Classic layering technique,” I murmur, following the digital paper trail, “but you found the pattern.”

“The timing intervals.” Marcus pulls up another screen, this one showing transaction timestamps. “Whoever set this up has OCD. Every transfer happens exactly seventy-two hours apart, always at 3:17 AM Eastern time. It’s like they can’t help but impose order on their chaos.”

I study the data, my mind automatically calculating possibilities and vulnerabilities. “Since we can predict the timing, can’t we intercept the transfers?”

“Better than that.” Marcus’s smile is sharp with predatory satisfaction. “We can redirect them.”

He opens a new program, his fingers flying over the keyboard with the fluid grace of a concert pianist. Code cascades down the screen in elegant patterns that are both beautiful and deadly.

“What am I looking at?” I ask.

“A virus I’ve been developing. Not malware exactly. More like a financial parasite. It embeds itself in the Sterling network and waits for specific trigger events. When Richard tries to move money for his war against us, the virus activates and redirects the funds to accounts of our choosing.”

The elegance of it takes my breath away. “You’re going to bankrupt them using their own greed.”

“Poetic justice at its finest.” Marcus leans back in his chair, and I realize how close we’re standing. Close enough that I can smell his cologne, see the faint stubble along his jaw, and notice the way his eyes darken when he looks at me. “But I need your help with the final phase.”

“What kind of help?”

“Strategic deployment. I can build the weapon, but you understand the psychology of our targets. You know how they think, how they’ll react when their world starts falling apart.”

I consider this, thinking about everything I know about the Sterling family dynamic and about Richard’s particular weaknesses and blind spots. “From what Kieran’s told me, he’ll panic first and try to move everything to his most secure accounts.”

“Which triggers the virus’s primary function.”

“Then, he’ll start liquidating assets. Real estate, investments, anything he can convert to cash quickly.”

“Phase two activates.”

“Finally, he’ll try to blame someone else. Probably his own IT department or financial advisors.”

Marcus nods approvingly. “Which gives us the perfect window to offer him a deal. Survival in exchange for complete surrender.”

The plan is brilliant in its simplicity and devastating in its scope. I can already see how it will play out. Richard Sterling will be brought to his knees not by bullets or bombs but by his own arrogance and the superior mind of the man beside me.

“When do we deploy?” I ask.

Marcus hesitates—not long, just a beat. His fingers still on the keyboard, and something flickers in his expression. “Now seems appropriate,” he says, his voice quieter. Then, withoutlooking at me, he adds, “But I want you to trigger the initial activation. I want your fingerprints on his destruction.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “Why me?”

He finally meets my gaze. Not just with his eyes. His whole being seems to lean into it, like he’s baring something he’s never let anyone see.

“Because I need you to see that this isn’t just war. It’s ours.You’re not a weapon I deploy. You’re the reason I built this virus in the first place.”

My heart skips a beat. “Marcus…”

His mouth lifts in the smallest, saddest smile. “I told myself I wouldn’t let this get personal, that I’d stay focused, but then you showed up, and everything I’ve built started shifting around you like gravity had changed.”

For once, he looks completely unarmored.

“You’re not the only one who’s been falling and pretending not to notice,” I whisper.

“I know.”

I move to the adjacent workstation and settle into the chair beside him. The space between us feels charged—more than strategy, more than lust.

“Walk me through it,” I say gently.