Through the window, he saw Annie moving among the boxes, her posture focused, methodical. A woman with a small child approached the shop. Annie let them inside.
“Keep digging,” Jack said. “I want financial histories, property transfers, shell businesses. Anything that intersects the Blackwood's.”
“Already on it.”
The call ended.
Jack studied the street again, mentally laying out lines between families, businesses, inheritances, and influence. A network like this didn’t survive for generations without people protecting it.
Which meant Annie didn’t just stumble on a piece of jewelry. She’d stepped into a legacy.
His phone vibrated with a text from Red’s.
Lunch ready.
As he pushed off the pole, movement caught his attention. The woman and child exited Annie’s shop. The woman pulledout her phone immediately, posture shifting from polite to purposeful.
Jack slowed. Not panic. Not concern. Efficiency.
He watched her walk away before turning his focus back to the building.
Whatever they’d uncovered so far barely skimmed the surface. Someone had watched Annie for weeks. Someone had coordinated timing. Someone had escalated to violence in less than twenty-four hours. That kind of behavior didn’t come from desperation. It came from fear of exposure.
Jack headed toward the diner—and stopped. A faint sound reached him from the alley beside the shop. Scratching. Not metal. Not footsteps. Deliberate contact against wood.
He changed direction instantly, moving fast but controlled. The sound cut off as he reached the corner. Fresh gouges scarred the back door. They were deep. Intentional.
Jack pulled out his phone and began photographing.
GIVE IT BACK OR ELSE.
A threat. He scanned the alley. Nothing. They’d been there seconds earlier while he’d stood ten feet away.
The front door burst open.
“Jack!”
Annie ran toward him, breath shallow, fear plain on her face.
“I heard something at the back,” she said. “And then I came out and you were gone and—”
“I’m here.” He kept his voice level. Grounded. “You did the right thing.”
She followed his gaze to the door. Her shoulders tightened. Her color drained.
“This isn’t stopping,” she said quietly.
“No.” He kept his attention on the alley even as he spoke. “Not until we understand what they want and why.”
“Or until I give it back.”
The words didn’t sound like surrender. They sounded like exhaustion.
“That’s not an option,” Jack said. “Not yet. Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“They’ve already hurt people.” She gestured toward the door. “They’ve made their point.”
“And they’ve made a mistake,” he said. “They’re showing us how afraid they are of what that locket could expose.”
