The heavy oak door of the third-floor study clicked shut behind Raphael, sealing off the world of shipping manifests, encrypted ledgers, and bloody territorial disputes. Down the servant staircase, Josephine Hartley hovered by the wooden banister like a ghost afraid of leaving a footprint.

Within two hours, Raphael and Gideon had mobilized their private tactical response team, boarding an interceptor jet bound for the coordinates of the hijacked freighter off Nova Scotia.

As the jet cut through the stormy night skies over the Atlantic, Josephine sat in the cabin’s tactical command center, analyzing the encryption packets left behind by the unknown hackers.

“They aren't looking for ransom, Raphael,” she said, looking up from her monitors as Raphael strapped on his tactical vest. “The cargo hold of that freighter wasn't carrying luxury goods or electronics. It was carrying the archival hard drives of every offshore banking record and political bribe your family accumulated over the last forty years—records the federal government thought were destroyed in the Marseille fire.”

Raphael locked his magazine into his rifle with a sharp metallic click. “They want leverage. They want to turn us into their private intelligence asset by holding our history over our heads.”

“Not if we reach the ship first,” Josephine replied, her eyes flashing with cold steel.

The jet doors opened mid-flight over the choppy ocean waters, the howling wind rushing into the cabin as Raphael and Gideon prepared for a high-risk HALO jump onto the deck of the darkened cargo vessel below.