[Ethan's POV]
We didn't linger in the boardroom.
I grabbed the signed debt transfer ledgers, shoved them into my duffel bag, and led Claire back to the private elevator. We left Varga bleeding and unconscious on the ruined carpet of the antechamber, and Kessler still zip-tied in the supply closet.
By the time Isabella's PMCs managed to restore the building's security grid and breach the 40th floor, we were already in the back of a cab, speeding toward the Zurich train station.
"Where it all started," Claire muttered, staring blankly at the passing city streets. She had her tablet open, but she wasn't looking at it. "Isabella and Jake didn't meet in Zurich. They didn't meet in Odesa. Where did this war actually begin?"
I leaned my head against the cold window of the cab, my body screaming in agony. The adrenaline was completely gone, leaving me hollowed out. My ribs throbbed with every bump in the road, and my shoulder felt like it was on fire.
