( third person POV)
Raina stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of her penthouse apartment, staring down at Harrington's glowing streets.
The city lights stretched endlessly beneath the cold November night. Cars moved through the roads below like streams of white and red.
Her phone rested against her ear as Frank spoke from the other end.
"He boarded already, boss," Frank said. "Flight took off twenty minutes ago."
Raina stayed silent for a second.
"And the people I assigned?"
"They're following him exactly like you said."
Good.
Because Malcolm was dangerous when cornered.
And desperate men rarely stayed predictable for long.
"Don't lose him," she said calmly.
"We won't."
The line disconnected.
Raina lowered the phone slowly and walked toward the kitchen island, pouring herself a glass of wine.
So Malcolm was finally gone.
Out of Harrington.
Out of Ethan's life.
At least physically.
But even now, one thing Malcolm said in that warehouse still lingered in her mind.
