She folded in on herself, as if the blanket could hold the weight of the secret. For a beat, none of them spoke—only the low hum of voices from the television filled the room—and the truth sat between them, far too big to ignore.
“But if Neith went down for the embezzlement, wouldn’t that mean the operation was dead in the water?” Enzo asked.
“He said we’d just wait for the heat to die down and start again,” Brioni said, voice thin. “That if WERC burned, we’d find another charity, another shell, and pick up where we left off.”
Seven shook his head. “And none of that seemed shady to you at all?”
She shrugged, then suddenly, her head snapped up. “Am I—am I gonna have to testify about all of this? Against Grant?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Seven snapped. “Your boyfriend’s been trafficking hundreds of women and children, and you’re worried you might have to testify? You’ll be lucky if you don’t go to prison as a human trafficker, Brioni.”
“What? No. No way. I didn’t do that. I didn’t know about any of that.” She gasped as her tea sloshed over the rim and scalded her hand. She hissed and pressed her fingers to the cup.
Seven scoffed. “It’s not about what you knew. It’s about what you did. If you’re lucky, a jury might decide you were just really,reallystupid and missed the red flags. But given how fast my mother started to piece things together, it’s not looking good for you, Brioni.”
For a beat, the room went quiet again. Because he was right. A first-year law student could argue Brioni lacked the specific intent to traffic, but on cross-examination, Enzo could shred that defense: she’d handled the books. She’d moved money. She should have seen the pattern. Hell, she’d had the evidence in her hands whether she knew it or not. She’d passed it to Neith in that thumb drive.
Seven knew his mother wouldn’t want Brioni jailed for trafficking, even though she had helped set her up. That was who Neith was—first to forgive and first to fight. She would argue Brioni hadn’t knowingly endangered those women, just beenblinded by love. Neith knew what it meant to be that kind of love blind.
“Am I going to jail?” Brioni asked, voice small.
“There’s a chance—asmallchance—that if you cooperate, you can ask for conditional immunity and testify against Grant,” Enzo said.
“But then you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, wondering when his powerful friends will come to tie up loose ends,” Seven said.
Brioni’s face went sallow. “So, that’s it? I’m just…going to prison? Or I...die?”
Seven and Enzo exchanged a look before Seven said, “I guess that depends on you.”
She sniffled. “I’m listening…”
“You come with us to the station, confess, and show the real records?—”
“They’ll arrest me!” she blurted.
“You’re going to face jail time regardless if this goes where it’s going,” Enzo said, his voice low. “But if you lead with full cooperation—give us everything, tell the DA what you know, and testify—we can try to get you a deal. You help clear Neith’s name, and I’ll post bail and put you somewhere safe while the case moves forward.”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “No. He’ll freak out if he knows I confessed.”
Seven’s expression hardened. “Your options are go to jail, get bailed out, help us take down Grant’s trafficking ring, and then disappear.Orgo to prison and wait for Grant’s donors to hire someone to make sure you never talk. Choice is yours. We already have the proof. We just prefer to handle things in-house.”
She looked between them, eyes huge. “What does that mean?”
“It means you have a decision to make, Brioni,” Seven answered. “Save Grant or save yourself.”
“Don’t throw your life away for a man who thinks women are property,” Enzo added. “Be better than that.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “But…what about my mother? I—I can’t leave her behind. She’s really sick. She needs me. If they’ll come after me, they’ll come after her.”
“We can help you both disappear,” Enzo said. “But you’re going to have to do some things for us first.”
She sagged, the relief in her face immediate and almost sickening after how readily she’d helped frame Neith. For a second, Seven felt like he could see the ledger in her hands, the transactions blurred into the man she’d chosen over his mother.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” she whispered. “Just please…make sure my mother is okay.”
“Do I look okay?” Ansel asked.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “We’re going to Calliope’s house for work, not a social visit. If you’re just gonna be weird, I’m leaving you in the car.”
