“It doesn’t belong to you,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Everything on this property belongs to me,” Gregory said.

He stopped five feet away, his chest rising and falling.

Eleanor shrank back behind my shoulder, her fingers clutching my sleeve.

“Gregory, please,” Eleanor whispered. “Just let her go.”

“Shut up, Eleanor,” he snapped without looking at her.

He looked back at me, his eyes cold and assessing.

“You think you’re a hero because of that new commission?” he asked.

“I’m a soldier doing my job,” I said. “And this is evidence of a crime.”

Gregory laughed, a short, harsh sound that died quickly in the fog.

“Evidence of what? A dead man’s fantasies?”

“It’s the paper trail,” I said. “The Richmond warehouse. Your signature on the transfers.”

His expression didn’t change, but his jaw tightened.

“You take that to the federal prosecutor, and you’re finished,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of you, Gregory.”

“You should be,” he said, taking a step closer. “I built your career, Natalie.”

“You didn’t build anything for me,” I said. “I earned every promotion myself.”