Push attachment.
I get in the truck and drive back with my jaw locked so tight I taste blood where I bit the inside of my cheek without noticing.
By the time I get back, the storage unit looks grimmer than ever. It really has become a piece of my life I don’t even recall anymore. Weird.
I go in, shut the door, and spread everything across the desk for everyone to see.
Photos.
Transfers.
Property language.
Messages.
Under the yellow lamp light, it all looks uglier.
More real.
Benjamin took money to help engineer our failure. Cole is feeding the town a version of me that makes it easier to bury what I’m trying to build. And every step I took thinking I was moving us toward safety, just handed him time to get clever.
But it’s only Zane who joins me. “Everyone else is asleep. You’re late back.”
I nod. “I know, but I had to get this.”
Zane’s gaze drops to the papers. “This from Jenson?”
“Yup.”
He comes closer. Reads fast. His face goes still in that dangerous way it does when the rage goes underground.
“Wren,” he says flatly.
“Paid well for it.”
“And contingent sale.” He taps the clause with one finger. “He means to strip the place cheap after the licenses fail.”
“Yeah.”
Zane reads the message thread next.
Push attachment.
His jaw sets. “So he does know about her.”
“He knows enough.”
Finally, Zane asks, “What are you going to do?”
There are ten answers to that.
Nine of them end in blood.
I look at the photos again, Benjamin’s careful handshake, Cole’s half smile.
“I’m going to finish this.”
Zane studies me for a long moment. “That’s not what I asked.”
