I never informed my stepfather that I had spent ten years as an elite covert operative for the Defense Intelligence Agency. As far as he knew, I was simply Eleanor’s meek daughter—the woman who dropped by for polite visits, measured her words carefully, and bit her tongue whenever he belittled my desk job.

I drove back to the safehouse to check on my mother. She was sitting by the fire, drinking tea, looking calmer than she had in years.

“Is it over?” she asked, looking up at me.

“Almost,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “I have one last meeting.”

“Be careful, Harper.”

“I’m always careful, Mom. That’s why I’m still alive.”

I went to my armory locker. I stripped off the blazer and changed into black tactical gear. Kevlar vest, combat boots, a customized Sig Sauer P226 on my hip, and a backup blade in my boot.

At 11:30 PM, I arrived at Pier 9. The shipyard was a graveyard of rusted shipping containers and broken cranes.

I didn't wait on the ground. I scaled a stack of shipping containers, positioning myself in the shadows twenty feet above the designated meeting spot.

Exactly at midnight, two black Mercedes SUVs rolled into the yard.

Yuri Volkov stepped out of the lead vehicle. He was an older man, dressed in an immaculate camel-hair coat, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane. He was flanked by four heavily armed bodyguards.

They dragged a bleeding, sobbing figure out of the second SUV.

It was Richard. His face was battered, his expensive clothes torn.

“I am here!” Yuri yelled into the empty yard, his voice echoing off the rusted metal. “Show yourself, little girl! You said you had my money!”

I didn't speak. I dropped a heavy duffel bag from the top of the container. It hit the wet concrete with a heavy thud, landing exactly ten feet in front of Yuri.

His men raised their rifles, scanning the shadows, but I remained completely invisible.

“Open it,” I commanded, my voice projecting from a concealed Bluetooth speaker I had placed on a nearby crane to mask my true location.

One of the guards unzipped the bag. Inside was a laptop, displaying the cryptocurrency wallet containing the stolen $2.5 million, along with the master decryption key.

Yuri looked at the screen, then smiled a cold, ruthless smile. He looked down at Richard, who was whimpering on the ground.

“You see, Richard?” Yuri said softly. “The girl honors her debts. You, however, are a thief.”

“Please, Yuri!” Richard begged, spitting blood onto the concrete. “I’ll pay you double! I’ll sign the house over to you! The shell companies are in her name, she has the assets!”

“Ah,” Yuri sighed, raising his cane. “But the girl provided the evidence that you forged the signatures. The FBI received an anonymous dossier an hour ago. You are useless to me now.”

Yuri nodded to his men.

They dragged Richard toward the edge of the pier.