“They won’t,” Thomas agreed. “Which is why we won’t ask.”
He turned away again, hands clasped behind his back.
“They embarrassed us,” Thomas continued. “They took men who belonged to me. They exposed my operation.”
His voice remained level. Almost bored.
“That requires a response.”
The man shifted. “What kind?”
Thomas considered.
Not a rush.
Not brute force.
Not yet.
“We strip their illusion of safety,” he said finally. “We remind them that mountains and badges don’t matter.”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “And then we take something theycan’treplace.”
The man’s face went pale. “The woman?”
Thomas smiled.
“No,” he said softly. “That would be too easy.”
He tapped the screen once more, eyes fixed on the heat signature that had followed hers everywhere.
“The man who loves her,” Thomas continued. “We make him choose.”
He turned the tablet off.
Outside, the town of Eagle River woke to another ordinary day—unaware of the decision that had just been made.
Thomas didn’t need speed.
He had time.
And time, used correctly…
Was far deadlier than violence.
42
Thomas
Violence was inefficient when fear could do the work for you.
Thomas sat at the long table in the back room of the villa, sleeves rolled up, calm as a man reviewing ledgers instead of lives. Around him, phones buzzed softly. Messages came in. Data flowed.
No raised voices.
No urgency.
That was the mistake amateurs made—confusing movement with progress.
