“No. But he sounded scared.” Bishop paused. “How close are you to Harrow?”
“Close enough to make him nervous.”
“Close enough to make him dangerous.” Another pause, longer this time. “I'm hearing rumours. Someone's been sniffing around Ravenswood. Asking about Adrian’s people. Asking about a bodyguard with a dead sister and anger management issues.”
My chest tightened. “Dom.”
“That's the name I heard. Dominic Rourke. You know him?”
“We've met.”
“Well, someone thinks he's connected to you. Someone's tracing threads, trying to map your network, trying to figure out who you talk to and who might be helping you.” Bishop's voice hardened. “If you care about this man, you need to warn him. Or you need to cut him loose before Harrow uses him as leverage.”
The line went dead.
I stood there holding the phone, staring at nothing, feeling the trap close around me with the inevitability of tides.
Harrow was buying silence. Closing mouths. Cutting off my access to information before I could build something strong enough to hurt him. And now he was looking at Dom. Seeing the connection. Preparing to exploit it the way he exploited everything else.
My first instinct was to go to Ravenswood. To check on Dom. To make sure he knew Harrow was circling, that danger was coming, that staying close to me made him a target.
I didn't move.
Because going to Dom meant admitting I cared whether he lived or died. Meant admitting the connection was real, not just tactical. Meant giving Harrow exactly the leverage Bishop had warned me about.
And more than that: it meant letting Dom see me scared. Meant showing him the cracks I'd spent years hiding. Meant asking for help when I'd built my entire identity around not needing anyone.
I couldn't do it. Wouldn't.
Not when I was this close. Not when Harrow was finally making mistakes I could document.
So I made a different choice.
I opened my laptop. Pulled up everything I had on Eden.
I started planning a trap. Something that would force Harrow or his people into a position where I could record them doing something undeniable. Something that couldn't be explained away as misunderstanding or coincidence.
I'd need access to Eden's private rooms. Would need to get cameras positioned where club security wouldn't find them. Would need to create a situation that looked natural enough to pull targets in but controlled enough that I could document everything.
I pulled up Eden's business registration. Standard procedure. Know who owns what you're trying to infiltrate. Know who you're really fighting.
The name stared back at me from the screen like a punch I should have seen coming.
Owner: Adrian Calloway
I sat back. Stared at the ceiling. Laughed humourlessly.
Of course. OfcourseAdrian owned Eden.
Eden wasn't just a BDSM club. It was Adrian's territory. His surveillance network. His leverage machine. Every person who walked through those doors gave Adrian information he could use, connections he could exploit, secrets he could weaponise.
Which meant I couldn't just walk in there and start installing cameras without Adrian noticing. Couldn't set a trap without his security flagging me as a threat. Couldn't do any of this alone the way I'd planned.
I needed access.
I needed Dom.
The realisation settled in my chest like lead.
