Havoc Ink was pressure.
Ember was escalation.
And whatever came next wouldn’t be indirect.
I looked at Wraith. “You’re right.”
His shoulders eased a fraction. “Good.”
“This ends,” I said. “But it ends on my terms.”
Grim stepped forward. “What are you thinking?”
I didn’t answer right away.
There was only one move left.
I turned toward the door. “It’s time to talk to Rowan again.”
Wraith nodded once.
I went straight to my office and pulled the burner phone from the drawer and stared at it for half a second before dialing the number that had messaged me earlier.
It rang once.
Twice.
He answered on the third.
“Lock,” Rowan said, like he’d been expecting it. “Took you long enough.”
“You hurt my people,” I said.
He chuckled softly. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You crossed my fence.”
A pause.
“I didn’t start this,” Rowan said, voice smooth, almost generous. “You crossed the line first. But I’m willing to end it.”
There it was.
“My son comes home,” he continued. “The man who hurt Saint gets handed over. We both walk away.”
Something tight and cold settled in my chest.
Not anger.
Refusal.
Not because I owned Kellan. Not because I thought I could keep him.
But because this wasn’t that simple anymore.
If Kellan chose to leave, I couldn’t stop him.
That truth landed hard.
