I never wanted to be a spy. I was just a Marine who got lucky—too lucky. A helicopter went down in Afghanistan, and I took shrapnel to the spine. I should’ve died. But I didn’t. Instead, I ended up at LSE, then Wall Street, all while the CIA used me as a quiet pair of eyes on financial flows.

Ten years after 9/11, I see something no one else does: billions in Russian money vanishing, tied to a man named Viktor Cherevin. My firm does business with his shell companies. When I hit a firewall during an audit, I request a trip to Moscow—officially, for due diligence.

It’s there that a bodyguard tries to kill me. I barely escape. Then Thomas Harper shows up—my old mentor. He tells me to trust no one. That night, I’m escorted to Cherevin’s office by his assistant, Katya. The man himself is cold, calculating, and already aware I’m more than an auditor.

The next day, Cathy arrives. My fiancée. She thinks I’m cheating. I can’t tell her the truth—except I do. Harper convinces her to help. We plan to steal Cherevin’s access codes during dinner.

Now, I’m stumbling out of the restaurant, pretending to be drunk, while Cathy keeps Cherevin distracted. I have his card. His office is just across the street. The files that could stop a war are on his server.

But as I slip into the building, I hear footsteps. Alarms. Guards. And then—Katya’s voice on the phone: 'He knows.'

What do I do?