They stormed my store to reclaim a 130-pound Cane Corso, but when his billionaire owner finally arrived, the dog ignored his command and sat on my foot—then suddenly froze at something behind him.

We drove through the night, leaving the burning city far behind. Roman navigated through winding, unpaved backroads, ensuring no one could tail us. By dawn, we arrived at an abandoned airstrip hidden deep within the sprawling pine forests of the state. A small, twin-engine private jet was waiting on the cracked tarmac, its engines already humming.

Once we were airborne, thousands of feet above the clouds, Roman finally opened up about the nightmare we were facing.

"The organization is called The Onyx Ring," Roman explained, laying out a series of classified documents on the jet's small mahogany table. "They do not just deal in weapons or blackmail like Elias did. They control politicians, judges, entire corporate empires. Elias was just the regional director for the East Coast."

I stared at the intricate web of names and shell companies printed on the documents. It was overwhelming. "And The Architect? Who is he?"

Roman’s jaw tightened. "His real name is Silas. Fifteen years ago, when I first started building my empire, Silas was my mentor. He taught me everything about strategy, about survival in the underworld. He was like a brother to me."

"What happened?" I asked softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. His skin was freezing.

"I found out he was ordering hits on innocent people to manipulate the stock market," Roman said, his voice laced with bitter regret. "I tried to blow the whistle. I gathered evidence—the master ledger—and hid it. Silas found out. He tried to kill me, but I managed to disappear and build a legitimate life. Until Elias dragged me back in."

Titan rested his head heavily on Roman’s lap, sensing his owner's distress. Roman gently unclasped the titanium collar from the dog's neck. With a swift twist of the metal buckle, a hidden compartment popped open. Inside rested a tiny, black flash drive.

"This drive contains the banking records for every shadow account The Onyx Ring owns. If this gets decrypted and sent to the right international authorities, the entire syndicate collapses overnight," Roman explained. "Silas knows this. That is why he burned your store. He is trying to break my spirit so I will hand it over."

"He picked the wrong girl to mess with," I muttered, staring at the tiny piece of plastic that held the fate of a global empire.

"Our destination is a fortified safehouse in the Rocky Mountains," Roman said, looking at me with intense seriousness. "It is off the grid, built into the side of a cliff. We will decrypt the drive there and upload it to Interpol. But Silas has eyes everywhere. The moment we connect to a satellite to upload the files, he will know our exact location."

"How long does the upload take?" I asked, doing the mental math.

"Thirty minutes," Roman replied grimly. "Which means we will have to hold off whatever army he sends for exactly half an hour."