“The Salvi family used that same capital to fund the warehouse renovations in Declan’s territory,” I said.

“Which means the Rourke syndicate was unknowingly operating on Vescari money,” I concluded.

Declan let out a low, harsh laugh that sounded like dry gravel shifting.

“So we were all paying each other with our own stolen cash,” Declan said, shaking his head.

“Precisely,” I said, looking at each of the three men in turn.

“Your books were kept dirty on purpose so you would always have a reason to fight,” I added.

“My father didn’t just steal from you,” I said, my voice dropping.

“He kept the books tangled so none of you could ever prove who owed what,” I said.

Roman closed the folder with a sharp snap that echoed through the empty warehouse.

He looked down at me, his cold face unreadable under the harsh yellow work lights.

“And you have straightened the line,” Roman said.

“The debts are balanced down to the last penny,” I said, pulling a second, smaller document from my pocket.

“According to the terms of the original Vescari-Rourke compact, a clean book clears all outstanding tertiary debts,” I said.