I move closer to see what she's found.
She pulls up more transactions, mapping them against the timeline of fires. "Withdrawals happen roughly a week before each fire. Could be coincidence. Could be payment."
We're deep into cross-referencing bank records with burn dates when my phone buzzes. Dispatch. I answer immediately.
"Riley."
"Active structure fire, commercial district east side. Pacific Imports. Captain wants you on scene."
I end the call and grab my keys.
"What is it?" Mira's already closing her laptop.
"Another fire. Commercial district, east side. Business called Pacific Imports." I'm moving toward the door. "No Brotherhood connection that I know of."
She stands, reaching for her jacket. "I'm coming with you."
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. I force myself to soften my tone. "This one's outside our pattern. Could be coincidence, could be escalation. Either way, I need you here where it's safe."
"Shaw—"
"Please." I stop at the door, meeting her eyes. "Stay here. Lock the doors. I'll call you as soon as I know what we're dealing with."
Frustration flashes across her face, but she nods. "Be careful."
"Always am."
I'm out the door and on my bike in under a minute, the engine roaring to life beneath me.
The pattern just broke. The fire hit outside Brotherhood territory. That changes everything. I twist the throttle and I'mgone, racing toward the smoke I can already see rising against the morning sky.
12
MIRA
The grocery store parking lot is nearly empty at nine PM on a weeknight. My vehicle sits in the back corner where I parked it, under a flickering streetlight that should've been replaced months ago. Keys already in my hand as I approach, grocery bag hanging from my elbow with the bare essentials I need.
Footsteps behind me. Too close, too fast.
Training from the self-defense class I took after Todd kicks in before conscious thought processes the threat. I spin, bag dropping, hand already reaching for the pepper spray on my keychain.
Richard Sullivan, David's brother, grabs my wrist before I can deploy it.
"You stupid bitch." His face twists with rage, eyes wild. "You couldn't leave it alone. Had to keep digging. Had to ruin everything."
I drive my knee up hard into his groin. He doubles over with a choked gasp, grip on my wrist loosening just enough for me to yank free. Pepper spray comes up, thumb finding the trigger, stream hitting him directly in the face.
Sullivan screams. His hands fly to his eyes, causes him to stumble backwards. I don't wait to see if he recovers. Muscle memory takes over—pivot, chamber the leg, drive my heel into his knee with every ounce of force I possess.
Something cracks. Not bone-breaking loud, but enough. Sullivan goes down hard, hitting asphalt with an impact that sounds painful even through the adrenaline roaring in my ears.
"Stay down." My voice comes out steadier than expected, pepper spray still aimed at his face. "Don't get up. Don't follow me. Don't ever come near me again."
He writhes on the ground, hands still covering his streaming eyes, knee bent at an angle that suggests ligament damage. The groaning sounds mix with cursing, but he's not getting up anytime soon.
I should call the police. Report the assault. Get this documented properly with official channels and criminal charges and restraining orders that mean something.
I don't.
