“We’re not here to discuss your personality,” Enzo states through the screen.
“No.” I crack my neck, feeling the tension before letting it settle back into my muscles. “We’re here to discuss how someone tried to gut me outside my own fucking building.”
Remus leans forward, clasping his hands on the polished table surface. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
I run through the details, leaving out Raven as much as possible. No need for them to know about her yet. Just that I had company, that we were ambushed when she left, that I took care of the problem with extreme fucking prejudice.
“They were waiting,” I explain, jaw tightening as I recall the sight of hands on her throat. “They grabbed the woman as soon as she exited the building.”
“Go on,” Remus says.
“They knew I had company,” I add. “Instead of waiting for me, they went for her specifically.”
Although I know I should, I don’t mention the tattoos. It’s not that I don’t trust the family. I do, implicitly. But this is personal. Mine. The others can chase leaks and logistics—I’m hunting the hand that drew that circle.
Remus’s knuckles whiten as he presses them against the table. “This is the second attack in just as many weeks. Almost two weeks ago, it was the shipment. And now this. And let’s not forget the attack from last year.”
“I remember that one clearer than I see with justoneeye,” I remark dryly, the scar tissue on my face tingling with phantom heat.
No one laughs. Not that I expected them to. The memory of the bomb that took my eye and left half my face a cartography of burn scars—it’s not something any of us find particularly fucking hilarious.
“Someone’s feeding information,” Rafe states the obvious, leaning forward. “About your movements, your business, your… guests.”
“Three attacks, three different approaches,” Enzo adds from the screen. “The bomb was distant. The hit on the shipment was crude but effective. This ambush was personal, close-range.”
“Testing methods,” I conclude, fury settling cold and hard in my gut. “Finding what works.”
“The common thread is you,” Remus points out, the words heavy with accusation. “And access to information that should be private.”
I go still, the way I do when rage starts building behind my ribs like backdraft waiting for oxygen. “They knew my schedule,” I agree, voice dropping lower. “That means it has to be someone with access to the club.”
My hand drifts to my pocket automatically, seeking the comforting weight of my lighter—but it’s not there. The absence hits fresh again, a small betrayal layered on top of bigger ones.
“The leak is likely someone close,” Enzo says, his voice carrying through the tablet speakers. “Someone who feels untouchable.”
The word lands heavy. The circle burned into my memory, the same one inked on those dead bastards’ wrists. Whoever drew it thinks they’re untouchable. We’ll see.
I stare at the space where my lighter should be, the emptiness in my pocket echoing the hollowness behind my missing eye. Both taken from me. Both leaving wounds that don’t close right.
“We need to flush them out,” Remus commands. “Find out who’s talking.”
I roll my shoulders. “I’ll gut every last person in my organization if I have to,” I promise, the words soft but carrying the weight of absolute certainty.
“Brute force isn’t always the answer,” Rafe interjects, his tone smoother than mine could ever be. “What you need is subtlety.”
“I can be subtle,” I growl, making Rafe’s eyebrow lift in silent challenge.
“What you need is someone unassuming,” he continues with a dry laugh. “Someone pretty enough to distract your men into talking. Someone who can listen where you can’t.”
The idea hangs in the air, taking shape like smoke curling toward a ceiling.
“Someone nobody would suspect,” Enzo adds thoughtfully.
Remus nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “A spy,” he summarizes. “Someone who can get close without raising alarms.”
I feel my lips curl into something between a smile and a snarl. “You want me to hire a spy to watch my own people?”
“I want you to survive,” Remus corrects, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Find someone.”
