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“Thank you.” I looked back at Guy. “Knox wasn’t killed. He was sent to Hell. You weren’t killed. You were sent here.”

The room changed.

There wasn’t a better way to describe it. The air didn’t get colder, exactly, but something in the conversation slid sideways and exposed teeth.

Bernie went very, very still.

I was beginning to hate when Bernie went still. It never meant anything good. It meant her giant Necromancer brain had sprinted ahead of us, found a grave, checked the date, and already knew whose name was on the marker.

“They weren’t eliminated,” she said softly.

I nodded once. “They were relocated.”

The word landed harder than I expected.

Relocated.

It sounded clean. Administrative. Like some miserable little clerk with ink on his fingers had stamped it across a file and gone to lunch.

Except Knox had been relocated into Hell. Guy had been relocated into a Magically sealed penal colony sitting on top of a Hellmouth. And that was one hell of a pattern.

Guy shook his head, already pushing back because, of course, what else would he be doing? Listening to me? No way. MacAllen men, as I was learning, defended themselves against emotional devastation with square shoulders, hard stares, and immediate objections.

“My case was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “I know exactly how Fogarty framed me. He ambushed me, engineered the circumstances, got me sentenced, and had his Supernatural Stewards throw me into Arrhythmia. He wanted me gone because I knew what kind of bastard he was.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Knox looked at me.

Guy looked at me.

Bernie looked at me.

Even Carrick’s spell crackled like the old Dragon Elder on the other end had leaned closer and muttered, “Proceed, you tiny creature of chaos.”

Probably not. But I chose to believe it.

“I’m not saying Fogarty and Keevandrie sat around a conference table with matching evil stationery and planned every heartbeat of this together.”

Guy’s brows pulled down. “Evil stationery?”

“Focus, Dragon Man.” I pointed at Knox. “Apparently Keevandrie wanted your brother gone because he knew too much, too. And instead of killing either one of you, they put both of you somewhere involving Hell Magic.”

Nobody had a cute little comeback for that. Which meant I had either said something useful or something wildly inconvenient. In my experience, those were usually the same damn thing.

Carrick’s voice emerged through the communication spell, calm and edged with warning. “The similarity is worth investigating. Pattern, however, is not proof.”

Knox’s expression shifted. Not softer. Sharper.

“No,” he said, and it was the Texas Ranger who stepped cleanly into the room. “But it’s probable cause.”

My mouth twitched before I could stop it. “Ranger Knox has entered the chat.”

Guy muttered, “He never left it.”