They thought he was just a rising name. He was hunting for a gun.

After Hank Rosen noticed Darren, he did not strike right away. Real predators do not waste a blade. They wait to see whether the target will walk into a corner on its own. Iron Curve Analytics moved into the twelfth floor of an old building downtown, where the window view included the harbor and a gray strip of skyline. The rent was absurd, but Darren signed it anyway. Not for status. For signal. They were no longer three people in a warehouse. They were starting to look like a real company. On moving day, Vera Martin came by with her recorder. “Do you count as successful yet?” she asked. “If success is just account balance, no,” Darren said, watching movers roll in servers and monitors.