Page 61 of The ARC Unit: Breach

“Exactly. No stamina.”

Wolf ignored all of them and looked at Raven. “Cover.”

Time to work. Over the next several hours, we built a woman who was close enough to me that I would not have to remember how she held a fork.

Her first name stayed Mia because Raven said changing the name that people would use to get my attention created an unnecessary failure point. Her last name became Morgan.

She worked in client strategy for a small American family office that had recently started placing European capital through a Zurich advisory firm. The firm existed and the Zurich relationship existed. What did not exist was Mia Morgan’s employment there until Raven and two people I was not allowed to know about created enough documentation to survive the level of scrutiny a bored security contractor might apply at a pool party.

I was not going to claim I managed billions or knew heads of state. I was employed and socially adjacent to exactly the kind of people Luca Bellandi liked talking to when there was alcohol nearby.

Raven put a profile on the screen.

“You met Bellandi once at a private-capital conference in Milan. Briefly. He may not remember you, which helps because he never actually met you.”

“And if he says he doesn’t remember me?”

“You laugh and tell him you’re offended.”

Jackal looked over from the couch. “Then touch his arm. Men lose half their processing power if a pretty woman touches them.”

I glanced toward him. “Is that based on intelligence work?”

“Personal research. Peer reviewed.”

Bear looked up from an equipment case. “By who?”

“Women.”

“That’s not how peer review works.”

“Depends how good the night goes.”

I caught Raven smiling before he turned back to the screen.

The party itself gave us an easier opening than I expected. Aster had reserved a block of discretionary invitations for sponsors and finance contacts with late additions from the host’s business network. One of Bellandi’s associates had submitted three names and only two had confirmed.

Raven did not have to break into a government database or perform whatever magic Jackal believed he could do with a laptop. A vendor account reused a password from an older Aster event, and that credential opened the guest-management portal long enough for Raven to add Mia Morgan to the unused slot, after which a normal confirmation email arrived in the inbox he had built for me.

“That feels illegal,” I said.

Raven looked offended at the observation. “We’re investigating human traffickers.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“No, it was context.”

Wolf came around the table.

“No-go areas.”

The satellite image returned.

He pointed toward the main house. “Upper floor is out. You don’t follow anyone through a private interior door.”

His finger moved to the lower garden. “Cabanas are acceptable if Raven has signal and Hawk has enough visual to track your position. Beyond this hedge line, you’re too deep for clean support. Don’t cross it.”

“And the house?”