Milo's eyes open wide. "Your bartender is interviewing at the same place this girl disappeared from?"
My blood turns to ice water. The universe doesn't deal in coincidences like this, only patterns waiting to be recognized.
"Sarah wanted an internship too," I say, more to myself than to Milo. "Langford dangled it like bait... said he could get it for her."
The realization is a punch to the sternum. How many businesses in that gleaming tower offer internships to pretty college girls? How many have a connection to Langford?
No. I'm getting ahead of myself, seeing conspiracies where there might be nothing but bad timing. The world's full of innocent explanations nested inside sinister ones, waiting to make fools of paranoid men like me.
"Hold up." I force myself to be methodical. "I need a concrete connection between Langford and Veritas. Something solid. Can you find that?"
Milo cracks his knuckles, wincing slightly from the hours of typing. "Let me work my magic."
His fingers assault the keyboard like it owes him money. Multiple windows cascade across his screens—financial records, corporate filings, news articles. The digital breadcrumbs of a life carefully constructed to withstand scrutiny.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Milo whispers after five minutes of searching. "Langford's not just connected to Veritas, he's a major investor. Buried under three shell companies and a trust in the Caymans, but it's him alright. The paper trail's deliberately convoluted, but I found board meeting minutes where his name appears through Rockwell's private equity division. He's practically bankrolling the whole operation while keeping his name off the letterhead."
His tattooed fingers dance across the keyboard once more, peeling back digital layers like an archaeologist uncovering a mass grave.
"And get this, Veritas isn't the only company he's got hidden away in that building. Three floors down is Quantum Edge Tech. Also Smith, Davidson & Ross, Velox Pharmaceuticals,Blackstone Edge Capital, and more. Same ownership structure, same shell game. Different name, same puppet master pulling the strings. It's like he's created an entire ecosystem under one roof, all carefully segmented so nobody connects the dots."
I lean closer to the screen, the blue light making me squint. Of course Langford would build himself a private hunting preserve disguised as a corporate empire. Men like him don't just hunt, they create the terrain, stock it with prey, and make the rules, so they can enjoy the chase at their leisure. Tale as old as time: the wealthy believe the world exists for their consumption.
"Motherfucker thinks he's clever," I say, my voice a low rumble that makes even Milo glance up. "Rich boys always do. They build mazes of paperwork and think no one will ever find the center. He's using those companies as his fucking feeding grounds." The words taste like battery acid.
Milo looks up at me, his usual hyperactive demeanor now dead serious. "Dane... your girl Lila... when's her interview?"
I check my phone, and my heart stops.
"In ten minutes."
I bolt from Milo's loft, practically taking the door off its hinges. The stairwell echoes with my footsteps as I race down five flights, already dialing Lila's number. Straight to voicemail. I try again with the same result, that automated voice mocking my growing panic.
"Fuck!" I slam through the building's entrance door, scanning for my car.
A text might get through where a call won't—cellular networks are weird that way—but my gut says it's already too late. Lila said she would be there early. My fingers send the message anyway.
Dane: DO NOT GO TO VERITAS. EMERGENCY. CALL ME.
I gun the engine of my Charger, tires squealing as I pull into traffic. Horns blare. I don't care.
Tessa. She might know something.
I pull up her contact info, the number I lifted from Lila's phone while she slept beside me three nights ago. Just a precaution, I told myself then. Just good tradecraft to know who's in your asset's orbit.
A 'precaution' that is nothing more than a violation of trust when you hold it up to the light.
The call connects on the third ring.
"Hello?" Tessa's voice is guarded. She doesn't recognize my number.
"It's Dane. Lila's—" What am I to her, exactly? "—um… Dane. Where is she?"
"How did you get my number?" The suspicion in her voice is entirely justified.
"That's not important right now." I cut through an alley, shaving precious seconds off my route downtown. "Is Lila at Veritas?"
A pause. "Yes, she had her follow-up interview at 10:30. Why? What's wrong?"
