The tight, iron band that had been crushing Ryan's ribs for the past twenty-four hours snapped.
Oxygen flooded his lungs in a single, jagged rush. The metallic, copper taste of pure adrenaline coating the back of his tongue began to recede, replaced by a fierce, electric high that made the skin on his forearms prickle. He stared at the digits glowing on the screen of his phone.
Available Balance: $2,790,000.00.
He had bet the entire company, his personal wealth, and his own life on a theory. He had pushed the Protocol's parameters to the absolute bleeding edge of its logic, daring the System to reject the massive corporate wire transfers as invalid.
It hadn't. It had swallowed the risk whole and spit out an empire.
Sophie stood inches away from him, her expensive perfume entirely overpowered by the sharp, acidic smell of stale coffee and burnt ozone radiating from the laptops behind them.
