"Would you recognize him?"
She flinches, gaze dropping to her hands. "Yes."
The implications of what she's been through hit me again, a sucker punch to the gut. I take a careful step closer, still maintaining distance.
"Cara." Her name feels strange on my tongue after years of avoiding it. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. For not looking for you. For thinking?—"
"Don't," she interrupts, voice brittle. "Not now. I can't..." She takes a shaky breath. "I want to help bring them down. That's all I can handle right now."
I nod, respecting the boundary. "The information about the key helps. Ice Pick can focus his efforts."
"There's more." She meets my eyes again. "The Reapers MC. They're not just providing security—they're partners. Full integration. That's why the operation is so successful. They use MC distribution networks, territory knowledge."
The revelation sends ice through my veins. The Reapers are our oldest rivals, a larger club with chapters across three states. If they're fully invested in trafficking, this is bigger than a territorial dispute. It's war.
"How do you know this?"
"One of the guards wore their colors. Said their president was meeting with 'the boss' to expand territory." She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller. "They're planning something big. Soon."
"Thank you," I say, meaning it. "This helps."
She nods, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Still useful for something, I guess."
The self-deprecation hits like a knife between my ribs. "Cara, you're not?—"
"Please," she cuts me off. "I can't do this right now. The emotional part. It's too much."
I back toward the door, respecting her need for space. "Get some rest. I'll have Maggie check on you later."
She doesn't answer, just turns to look out the window. The dismissal is clear, and I tell myself it doesn't hurt.
Five minutes later, I'm briefing the club leadership in the chapel. Vulture, Osprey, Ice Pick, and Condor listen as I relay what Cara told me, minus the personal parts.
"War with the Reapers," Osprey says, shaking his head. "We're outnumbered three to one."
"We have something they don't," Vulture points out. "We have one of their men in our basement, and we have their ledger."
"And we have Cara," I add. "She can identify key players."
Ice Pick leans forward. "If the ledger contains what she says—evidence against clients—that's leverage we can use."
"Against the Reapers?" Condor asks.
"Against everyone." Ice Pick's eyes gleam with possibility. "Politicians, businessmen, cops. If we control that information, we control them."
"We're not blackmailers," I snap. "We're going to use this to shut down their operation, not start our own."
Vulture holds up a hand, silencing the debate. "Falcon's right. This isn't about profit. It's about justice." He looks around the table. "These bastards have been operating in our backyard, using people like commodities. That ends now."
"What about the authorities?" Osprey asks. "This is bigger than us."
"We handle it ourselves," I say firmly. "We can't trust the cops. Not when the ledger might implicate some of their own."
Vulture nods slowly. "We move carefully. Ice Pick, focus on decrypting that ledger. Osprey, double security around the clubhouse. Condor, reach out to our allies. We may need numbers."
"And Hawk?" I ask, referring to our contact in the sheriff's department.
"Keep him in the dark for now," Vulture decides. "Until we know who's clean and who's dirty."
