Page 179 of Black Reign

Private driver.

Office logistics.

Security detail.

That's it.

GHOST: I never told you the hotel.

Nothing.

My fingers move again.

GHOST: Vesper.

The typing indicator appears.

Stops.

Returns.

VESPER: Ghost.

Cute.

Not enough.

GHOST: You didn’t find me through Ghost.

Long pause.

GHOST: You found me through Blackwell.

The indicator vanishes.

For almost two minutes, the room is silent.

Then one word appears.

VESPER: Yes.

My pulse slows.

Not from calm.

From focus.

Every playful thought from the last twenty-four hours rearranges itself.

Blackwell.

The breaches.

Legacy systems.

The intrusions I've been chasing long before this wedding.

The ghost inside Blackwell infrastructure.