“You should’ve called me first.”
“I’m not on your clock.”
A soft exhale comes through the line, controlled and unimpressed. “You are until this is finished.”
“It’s escalating faster than you planned,” I say, keeping my voice level. “He’s locking down routes, limiting access to internal updates. I don’t get handed documents anymore.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“What do you want, then?” I press my fingers to my temple.
“I want the next move before he makes it.”
“He hasn’t told me.”
Silence stretches for a beat.
“He tells you everything,” Patrick says. “That was the point.”
“He tells me what he wants me to know.”
“You sound defensive.”
“I sound tired.”
“You sound compromised.”
I sit straighter on the edge of the bed. “Careful.”
“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” he continues, voice growing dark. “You’ve slowed down. Your updates are reactive. You used to be ahead.”
“He’s not predictable anymore,” I say, and I shift forward on the edge of the bed, elbow braced on my knee, voice kept low so it doesn’t carry through the walls.
“He’s a creature of habit.”
“He was,” I correct, stifling a groan. “He’s grieving.”
Silence stretches on the other end, and I picture him sitting perfectly still, weighing every inflection I just gave him. Another pause follows, heavier this time. “Don’t forget who placed you there,” he says.
I straighten my spine as if he can see the shift. I don’t like the wordplaced. I don’t like what it implies. “I haven’t.”
“Then stop protecting him.”
My fingers curl around the burner, knuckles whitening. “I’m not protecting him,” I say evenly, though the image of Cillian at Roarke’s grave flashes uninvited behind my eyes.
“Then give me something useful.”
I close my eyes. “He’s consolidating the east docks and pushing Kinsella’s remaining shares into shell companies, but the filings won’t surface until next week.”
“You’re guessing.”
“I’m extrapolating.”
Athwackon the other end tells me he’s slapped his hand on his table out of frustration. “You’re betraying me, Saoirse.”
The accusation snaps through the line so cleanly that I don’t breathe for a second. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair,” he repeats softly, and now there’s no restraint at all. “You think this is about fair?”
