James says nothing. He doesn’t have to. The damage is done. I reach into the box and lay out the files—names, locations, photos. A paper trail stitched in blood.
“We’ve talked about Donovan. We know the role he played. But now it’s time to act. Not react. No more waiting. No more ghosts.” My voice dips lower, each word a strike. “He’s been hiding behind middlemen for years. We find the men he used. The banks, the fake shells. We peel them back layer by layer.”
Knox leans forward, eyes sharp. “You have names?”
“Enough to start.” I slide a few sheets toward him. “Two of the accounts are tied to a dummy corporation with holdings in North Carolina and Mexico. Frankie’s digging into the southern ones. Arden flagged two more overseas.”
East lifts a brow. “And the domestic ones?”
“One leads to a cabin in Missouri. Another connects to a shipping hub in New York. There’s a flagged transfer in Savannah. Could’ve just been a pass-through, but the name attached is too close to Donovan’s inner circle to ignore. We don’t know yet if it was money, product, or people.”
I tap the final sheet, the one marked with a red line and a familiar signature. “But this one? This is local.”
Knox frowns. “Graves?”
“Graves.” I spit the name, like it’s poison on my tongue. “Winston Graves voted to protect zoning rights on Donovan’s property. According to this?” I hold up the letter. “He didn’t do it out of loyalty. He did it because he was leveraged.”
Nash mutters under his breath, low and deadly. “Son of a bitch.”
East is already reaching for the file, scanning it in search of answers buried deep enough to bleed. “What kind of leverage?”
I meet his eyes. “Something personal. We don’t have it yet. But we will.”
Knox’s fingers drum once against the table. “We pressure him. Squeeze from both ends.”
“Not yet,” I say. “He’s a rattlesnake. If we corner him now, he’ll go underground. We pull every thread first. Quiet. Surgical.”
East is silent. Too silent.
I study him a beat longer. His jaw’s locked. His breathing shallow. But his hands? They’re steady. Too steady.
“East,” I say quietly, “how long have you suspected he was dirty?”
He looks up. His eyes are colder than I’ve ever seen them. “Since before Darla came to us.”
Silence drops again—this time, heavier. The weight of every missed sign. Every closed door.
“She’s safe now,” he adds. “But I want that man to burn.”
“Then we make it righteous,” I say. “We bring the matches. But first, we build the case. We find Donovan. We choke every pipeline he uses. Money. Cargo. People.”
Kyle shifts. “You think Alice is with him?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But she’s alive. And she’s hiding.”
“You believe she’s still watching Candace,” Nash says.
I nod once. “I think she’s waiting to see if we’re strong enough to keep her.”
Knox’s voice is ice. “Then we make sure she sees the truth.”
East speaks next. His voice is calmer now, but more dangerous. “When we’re ready, I want Graves. Don’t care how it happens. Don’t care if it’s clean.”
I nod, jaw tight. “You’ll have him.”
Then I look around the table—at the men ready to follow me through hell.
“This isn’t about retaliation anymore. This is about justice. About roots. If we let them keep growing, they’ll strangle this town.”
