Damien’s breathing ragged. “You— you don’t—”
“Answer her,” Ash says.
There’s steel in it now. Not heat. Not rage.
Steel.
Damien swallows. Sweat beads at his brow. “Sector chief— sector chief authorized final clearance. It wasn’t— it wasn’t a burn notice, it was a containment order. He— he compromised an op. He made contact with a protected asset without—”
“Liar,” Ash says flatly.
Damien stares at him. “I—”
“Try again,” Ash says.
Something in Damien’s eyes flickers. He looks at Ember, then at me, then back to Ember. He realizes. Finally. That this isn’t going to tilt back to him.
“It was me,” he mutters.
Ember’s lips part.
He looks at her, jaw clenched. “I signed it. They told me he was running hot. They told me he was talking in places he shouldn’t.They told me he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and he was going to expose the entire corridor we’d embedded into the Syndicate pipeline. They told me if I didn’t pull him and shut him down, we’d loseeverything. I believed them.”
My stomach goes cold.
Ember tilts her head. “You believedwho.”
He swallows. “Internal liaison.”
“Name,” Ash says.
Damien hesitates. Wraith shifts, just a little.
Damien blurts it. “Russo.”
Vale sighs, obviously pleased. “Good. A new name to carve.”
Saint’s eyes lift in thought, cataloguing. Like he’s not buying that answer.
Ember doesn’t blink, never giving anything away. “And Owen?”
Damien scoffs, tries for disdain and finds it gone. “Your brotherwassloppy. He—”
Wraith’s hand is suddenly around Damien’s throat again. Not squeezing. Just reminding.
Damien chokes back the rest of the sentence. I lean in closer, letting him see exactly what I am to him now.
“He was what,” Ember asks softly.
Damien’s gaze flicks to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “He was too loyal… Toyou,” he grits out.
It knocks the air out of the room. Ember doesn’t make a sound. Her jaw just tightens. “Say that again,” she whispers. “Thetruththis time.”
Damien swallows. “He was loyal to you. He wouldn’t shut up about you. He wouldn’t follow orders that put you at risk. He wouldn’t stay in his lane. He wouldn’t stop asking questions about Marcus. He wouldn’t stop being a problem. He wouldn’t stop threatening to walk into Internal Affairs and burn the entire corridor if I didn’t pull Marcus out and have him brought up onmisconduct. He wouldn’t stop saying he’d put a bullet in Marcus himself if we didn’t.”
My vision goes white around the edges for a second. Saint exhales, slow and reverent, like someone just said mass.
Vale whispers, “Holy fuck,” like he’s ready for the bloodshed.
