As they move back toward the truck, the alley feels too quiet.
Finn looks at Ryder. “We can’t just sit on this.”
“We won’t,” Ryder replies.
The firefighters pull away slowly, the red lights fading at the end of the street until the alley is swallowed by its usual quiet, except now the quiet feels staged.
For a long moment, none of us moves.
The brick is still damp. The pallets are blackened and collapsed in on themselves. The air carries that faint, acrid edge that doesn’t belong to us.
Ryder is the first to turn toward the door. “Let’s talk about this inside.”
We follow without argument, Aurora wrapped in Finn’s jacket. The door shuts behind us with a heavier sound than usual, and I lock it automatically, testing the handle once, then again, because routine is control and I need that right now.
The bar smells faintly of smoke now, the scent threading through old wood and polished countertops, settling into the place as an accusation.
Finn guides Aurora toward one of the booths, but she doesn’t sit. She stands in the center of the room instead, arms folded, eyes sharp despite the hour.
Ryder stops near the bar and braces his hands against the edge, not leaning for support but to keep himself controlled.
“We’ve been reactive,” he says.
No one interrupts him.
“The council meeting,” he continues. “The licensing pressure. The fire tonight. Every move has been in response to someone else.”
Finn exhales sharply. “And tonight was escalation.”
“It was testing,” Ryder corrects, his gaze shifting briefly toward the back door as if he can still see the beam beneath the office window.
I lean against the bar, arms folded, replaying the image of the pallets stacked tighter than they had been before, leaning deliberately toward the brick to reflect heat inward. Nothing about that setup had been random.
“They aimed at paperwork,” I say. “They wanted to threaten stability.”
Ryder nods once. “Which tells me this isn’t about spectacle. It’s about leverage.”
Aurora steps closer, the jacket slipping slightly off her shoulder before she pulls it back up. “You think this is Cole. Doesn’t it seem more like Wren?”
“I think it fits Cole’s pattern,” he says quietly. “He will know about Wren, I’m sure of it, and he wants us to assume it’s him.”
I get that too, knowing Cole, but I understand why Aurora looks so confused.
Finn drags a hand down his face, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “So what, we wait for the next ‘message’?”
Ryder straightens slowly, his posture shifting from assessment to decision.
“No. We stop letting him dictate the pace.”
“You want to go after him,” I say, watching him closely.
“I want to meet him,” Ryder replies. “Face to face.”
Finn lets out a low breath that almost sounds amused. “That’s not exactly subtle.”
“It isn’t meant to be,” Ryder says. “If he’s operating under the assumption that we’ll stay defensive, then we correct that assumption.”
Aurora’s eyes move between us, tracking the shift in tone. “You’re going toconfronthim?”
