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He stands. "I'll call the airfield. We can be wheels up in ninety minutes."

"Already done. The jet's being fueled. Deno's driving us."

"How much does she know?" he asks.

"Nothing. She thinks I'm working late."

He nods. “That’s probably for the best.”

Jeremy Parker-Downey's home is a love letter to his massive ego.

Ninety million dollars’ worth of glass and steel perched on a hill like a middle finger aimed at the entire city.

Twelve-foot walls. Cameras on every corner. A security system that makes Jeremy Parker-Downey believe he is untouchable.

But tonight, I'm going to prove him wrong.

With my gun.

In his mouth.

And a bullet in his brain stem.

Three million dollars of security and my tech genius, Poe—a college senior who lives in his mom’s basement—gets us inside in eleven seconds.

Inside, the house is a gallery of obscene wealth. High ceilings. Glass everything. Artwork. Sculptures. A giant aquarium.

We find Jeremy in the master suite, pouring a nightcap. He’s barefoot, dressed in a black tee and gray sweatpants.

He looks like any other tech bro I’ve come across. Expensive but casual. Groomed without looking like he’s trying too hard. The kind of guy who thinks he’s charming.

When he sees us, there is no immediate reaction to the two strangers standing in his bedroom at midnight.

It appears Jeremy Parker-Downey doesn't panic.

He takes a sip of his drink.

"Well," he says. "This is a surprise."

He thinks his bodyguards are going to appear any minute, but we disposed of them on our way inside.

"Evening, Jeremy."

"You want to tell me how you got past my system? I'm genuinely curious. I designed it myself."

"Trade secret."

"Cute." He leans against the bar. "And you are?"

"Dante Di Zaro."

He sips his drink again, his mind working to figure out how he knows the name.

"Di Zaro." He gives me a slow nod. "The real deal."

"The real deal."

"I've heard stories."