"Or one person hiring the same arsonist repeatedly." Mira highlights a section of her financial data. "Look at this. It proves what we saw before. Cascade Services has been making large cash withdrawals before each fire. But those withdrawals go through Hartley Industrial's accounts first, then get transferred to Cascade."
I lean closer to study the transaction trail she's highlighting on her screen. The numbers and dates mean nothing to me individually but create a damning pattern when she explains the connections. Account numbers are cross-referenced with business registrations. Wire transfers are tracked through multiple intermediary accounts. Cash withdrawals are timed precisely with fire incidents.
"Sullivan knows how to hide money." I watch her work, impressed by how quickly she identifies patterns in what lookslike meaningless financial documentation. "Professional level obfuscation. Not something an amateur sets up."
My phone buzzes again. Another message from the unknown number, and this one makes my blood run cold.
Cute that you think the Brotherhood can protect her. I've been three steps ahead this entire time. By the time you catch me, she'll already be dead.
I show the message to Mira. Her face pales but her jaw sets with determination.
"Sullivan's getting desperate," she says. "Because I'm not dying for his revenge fantasy, and I'm sure as hell not letting him burn any more businesses or hurt any more people."
Sullivan just made this personal by threatening Mira directly. Big mistake. Now he's got the full weight of the Brotherhood hunting him. Every brother deployed, every resource committed, until we find him and end this.
Tate appears in the doorway, silhouette backlit from the living room. "Cole and I are swapping positions. You need anything before I take the back?"
"We're good. But keep your observation sharp. Sullivan is confident enough to send threats in real time."
"Understood." Tate's hand rests on the doorframe, his casual stance not hiding his tactical awareness. "Mike's bringing food soon. Will wants check-in regularly until we identify the threat."
After Tate leaves, the house settles into the particular quiet that comes with armed security positioned at both ends. Cole moves on the back deck, radio crackling occasionally with position reports. Tate's boots cross hardwood as he walks the perimeter before taking up his watch position. The sounds of brothers keeping us safe.
I pull Mira closer, one hand settling on the back of her neck. She leans into the touch, and some of the investigative tension releases now that we're alone again.
"Three steps ahead, he claims."
"We'll see how far ahead Sullivan is when armed bikers and a pissed-off fire investigator come knocking." Steel runs underneath the determination in her voice, the same tone she used when she took down Sullivan in that parking lot.
Yemen taught me that confidence gets people killed. Overconfidence gets entire teams killed. Calculated confidence backed by superior firepower and tactical positioning wins firefights.
Sullivan thinks he's ahead of us. He's wrong. He gave us his methodology by killing Hartley. He revealed his surveillance capabilities by photographing us at the scene. He demonstrated his escalation pattern by upgrading from property damage to murder.
Every piece of information narrows the field. Every threat reveals more about how he operates. He thinks he's hunting us. The truth is we're hunting him right back.
And when we find him, he'll learn what happens when you threaten the Iron Brotherhood's family.
Game on.
14
MIRA
Numbers swim across my laptop screen, columns of transactions that finally start to align into something coherent. I've been awake for hours, buried in the financial records that refused to make sense until they suddenly do. The coffee Shaw brought me sometime before sunrise sits cold in its mug, forgotten while I trace money through accounts designed to hide the truth.
Tate stands silent watch at the front window, solid and alert. Cole monitors the back approach from his position in the yard. Brotherhood protection isn't a comfort—it's a reminder that someone wants me dead enough to require armed guards.
My laptop screen blurs as exhaustion pulls at my focus, but the pattern in the data won't let me stop. Cascade Services looked legitimate on the surface—small logistics and consulting firm operating in the Pacific Northwest with unremarkable revenue and standard business filings. But I've spent years learning to look beneath surfaces, to find connections others miss.
This company has too many irregularities buried in the details.
Ownership structure is deliberately obscured through layered corporate entities, the kind of setup that screams someone has something to hide. I pull up the Oregon Secretary of State business registry and start digging through incorporation documents. The registered agent is a law firm in Portland—Morton & Lyle, one of those mid-tier firms that handles dozens of shell company registrations without asking too many questions. But the actual ownership requires cross-referencing multiple filings and following trails through subsidiary companies and holding entities.
First layer: Cascade Services LLC is wholly owned by Pacific Northwest Holdings Group. I pull that company's filing. It's registered in Delaware, which means minimal disclosure requirements. The board of directors lists three names I don't recognize—probably lawyers or paralegals who signed incorporation documents for a fee.
Second layer: Pacific Northwest Holdings Group shows ownership by Coastal Investment Partners. It's another Delaware registration, another set of anonymous board members who exist only on paper.
Years of tracking money through shell companies have taught me patience with these structures. Most investigators would give up here, accept that the ownership is deliberately obscured and move on to other leads. But I've learned that there's always a crack if you know where to look.
