Chapter 110

Herod Preston stood at his Tribeca penthouse windows, studying three monitors displaying data from the Phoenix Grid’s first section. The screens cast an eerie blue glow across the dimly lit room.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, bourbon untouched in his hand.

Rose entered, wrapped in a silk robe the color of blood, her hair damp from the shower. She moved toward him with predatory grace.

“What doesn’t make sense?” she asked, examining the displays.

Herod gestured toward the center screen. “The Grid. These readings are exactly what we expected to see. Minor fluctuations, small power surges, tiny irregularities in the data flow. All perfectly in line with our sabotage timeline.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Too good,” Herod set his glass down sharply. “No unexpected variables, no human error, no deviations. It’s as if someone wants us to see exactly this data.” He pointed to a jagged blue line. “The fluctuations are consistent to the decimal point, repe