That's when I felt eyes on me. Niko. He lingered near the edge of the gym, posture too stiff, hands too careful around a folder. He didn't interrupt right away, like even he knew the wrong word might make me snap.
I slid down the rope, boots hitting the mat with a thud. "Spit it out."
He approached cautiously. "It's about the case you asked me to dig into. Aria's father. Cruz."
"Eladio Cruz." My voice was flat. "Head of the Veracruz Cartel. Old school...ran coke through the Gulf, laundered through shipping fronts, kept federales in his pocket. I know the file. Spit it out."
Niko nodded once. "Right. But here's the piece we didn't have. Aria's father didn't just skim cash. He siphoned a whole offshore reserve...forty million, minimum. Moved it through layered accounts, some in Europe, some right here in Spain. Something smart. Cruz couldn't let that insult stand, but every time he sent men, her father slipped the net. He ran clean. Untouchable. For years."
