“I know that, too.” He exhales. “I also knew you’d figure out why I did it, and I was counting on you to be the kind of man who doesn’t repeat my mistakes.”
I rub my thumb along the splintered rail, feel the rough give of the weathered wood. “Well, I definitely don’t plan to marry the bitch.”
He snorts—the first sound tonight that isn’t careful. “I’m sure you won’t marry anyone who thinks a son is negotiable.”
Silence again, softer this time. The marsh clicks and hums. Far out, a buoy dings—a tired clock unsure of the hour.
“She was right about one thing,” he says finally, voice lower. “Not about you being expendable—that’s bullshit. But she wasright about the kind of people we’re up against. Phoenix was talking about the Broker and the man over him…that’s what we’re dealing with. Your mother acted tough, but she was afraid of making someone else angry. Those are the kind of people that run our world. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were someone in our circle.”
I frown. The thought of that is chilling. “I’ve never known Mother to be afraid of anyone. And for what reason? What did she say that night…?”
“She was fixated on appearances. She always is.” His gaze drifts somewhere past the marsh. “She didn’t like that I’d moved on, or that I’d built a different life without her fingerprints on it. Image is lifeblood in Savannah.”
He shakes his head, then refocuses. “Anyway. That’s bygones. Phoenix gave us some valuable information with what Danner revealed about the hierarchy of things. And I know you and the guys have already talked about this, but take me through it. Maybe I’ll see something you don’t. I know these people in a different way.”
“Okay. We have the Broker, and we have the Boss, who has yet to show his face.”
“Men like that don’t risk exposure,” my father says. “They’re methodical. Patient. They let others do the dirty work so their own hands stay spotless. They’ll use what just happened to take your measure. They’ll call it a test. Fail it, and they’ll rebuild the entire board with your bodies as examples.”
My jaw tightens. “The thing that has us baffled is what he truly wants. It can’t be just Phoenix—her father’s debt, I mean. We offered to pay it.”
I’m not Atticus, but markets make sense to me. People don’t refuse guaranteed profit unless the return they want is something else.
My father exhales. “Debt collectors take money, so this guy isn’t a debt collector. Kingmakers take people. If you’re asking me, this feels less like a debt and more like…a claim.”
I don’t like that word.
He goes on. “It could just be leverage. Maybe it’s something personal. Maybe he wanted a seat at a table he already owns everywhere else. Men like that collect obedience. If they can’t buy it, they’ll breed it. If they can’t breed it, they’ll break it.”
A strange shiver passes down my spine. The kind that comes when a puzzle has too many edges that almost match.
Almost like deja vu.
I stare out at the place where the marshy dark stops being water and starts becoming sky. “If he wanted her alive on that ship, he wanted something from her. They didn’t get it. That makes her a debt someone is going to come for.”
“And a witness,” he adds softly. “She knows a face. A voice. Men like him don’t tolerate that. They don’t forget.”
I roll my shoulders until something pops, and the heat under my sternum finds somewhere to sit. “He’s not going to get another shot.”
“He’ll take every shot he can manufacture,” my father says, not warning me—just stating reality as he sees it. “Build a wall.”
“We’re building it,” I say. “All of us in different ways. Atticus is rewriting our digital security. Maverick’s ensuring we have the loyalty of key people who surround us. And Conrad?—”
A faint smile touches my mouth. “Conrad’s a bullet with a name written on it—once we learn that name.”
My father studies me. “And you?”
I pull my knife from my pocket, flip it around, and let it drop, point down, into the wood of the rail. “I’m the blade with that name carved in it.”
He grunts like that answer was inevitable. A blessing disguised as indifference. “Good. Then listen—get her well before you get even. If you chase both ends of the rope at once, you’ll drop one. And whoever sits at the top of this ladder? He only needs one.”
I know he’s right.
“Put your hands where they matter,” he says.
“On her,” I say without shame.
“On her,” he echoes. “And keep your eyes focused on the rest.”
