The hallway door opens, and Frankie slips back in, Arden a half step behind her. Whatever the phone call was, she's locked it down. Her face is neutral, pen already in hand before she reaches her seat. Arden returns to his post near the hallway entrance, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Frankie. Start building a map. Political, financial, medical. Every board he's on, every donation, every charity he's hidden behind."
Frankie's already reaching for her notebook. "Done."
Malachi lifts his chin toward East. "East, you're on the money trail. You'll see patterns the rest of us miss."
Malachi turns toward the hallway entrance. "Arden. You've been quiet, but I saw your face when Sloane was talking. You know something about how these networks operate."
Arden holds his gaze for a beat. Then, measured and exact: "I have contacts that could be useful for this. People I've worked with before. I can help build the skeleton."
A beat of silence. Malachi studies him, reading whatever Arden isn't saying out loud. Then he nods. "The three of you. Build it."
His attention cuts to Knox. "And you. I want you digging. Deep. Use every skill you pretended you didn't bring when you patched in."
Heat rolls off Knox behind me, quiet and lethal. "Already on it. Now that I know what I'm hunting, I can tear him apart from the inside out."
"Perfect. Nash, security. Full perimeter. Travel alerts. Anyone with Mercer ties breathes in this direction, I want to know before the wheels hit the tarmac."
Nash gives a short nod, expression carved from steel. "You'll know."
"Candace, Darla. You keep everyone from falling apart while we rip this open. We're about to kick a hornet's nest of rich men with God complexes. People we care about are going to be triggered." His gaze flicks to Candace, then settles on me. "Sloane especially. She's going to be the closest to the blast."
Candace gives a decisive nod. Darla follows, gentle but unshakeable.
"And Ruby."
She perks as though someone lit a fuse. "Finally. Hit me."
"Your father is a federal judge with connections to every courtroom in the state. We're going to need legal teeth behind what we dig up, and you're the bridge to that." He holds her gaze. I watch Ruby's expression shift, the performer falling away, replaced by something sharper. "I need you building that channel. Quiet. Smart. On your terms."
Ruby is still for a beat, and it's strange to see her without motion. Then she nods, and there's a weight to it I haven't seen from her before. "I can do that."
"I know you can." Malachi's voice carries no humor. "And keep morale from tanking while you're at it. Chaos, distraction, noise. Whatever you do that stops people from spiraling. Use it."
Ruby's grin returns, but it sits on top of something steadier now. "Emotional support gremlin with a legal pipeline. Got it."
"Maggie, Sloane. Medical fallout. Physical, emotional. Whatever we dig up, it's going to bleed. We're going to be bringing in girls who've been through what you've seen, Sloane. Or worse. We'll need you." His voice drops a fraction. "Only if you want in. No one's conscripting you."
The idea of facing girls who've walked through the fire I ran from makes my stomach twist. So does the idea of not being there when they arrive, of standing on the other side of a door while someone else holds the chart, counts the pulse, whispers the lies about safety that I used to whisper.
"I want in," I say, small but steady. "I can't go back for the ones I lost. But if there's a chance to be there this time, to actually do what I told myself I was doing all those years ago, I want in."
Maggie's voice from beside James, warm and steady enough to settle under my ribs. "We'll make sure you don't drown in it. We've got you."
Ruby slaps her palms on her thighs. "Well. Good news for you, Sloane Turner. You're stuck with us. That's how this works, babe. You show up, you bleed a little, you trauma-bond, and boom." She snaps her fingers. "Family."
That old, brittle piece in my chest, the one always waiting for the door to slam, creaks under the strain of all this steady, ridiculous acceptance.
"You keep saying that," I whisper. "Family."
Candace's gaze sharpens. "You think this isn't one?" Genuinely confused.
My throat burns. "I've never had one that wasn't conditional."
Candace glances at Darla, then back at me. "Neither have we." She tips her chin toward Darla, toward the room. "My mother ran auctions. Darla's father tried to sell her at one. You think either of us walked in here knowing what family was supposed to look the way it does?" Her voice is steady, stripped clean. "You showed up for us. Sat with me when I couldn't stop shaking. You were there for Darla when the rest of us didn't know how to be. So we're showing up for you. That's how this works."
Knox's arm tightens at my back, a fraction. "It's not conditional. You don't get to shake us off that easy."
