The door groaned as he pushed it open.

Inside, a single fluorescent bulb flickered on the ceiling.

The air smelled of old grease, wet paper, and kerosene.

There was a scarred wooden desk and two folding metal chairs.

Aries shut the door, cutting off the worst of the wind.

The silence in the room was heavy.

He pulled off his wet leather gloves and laid them on the desk.

“The ledger,” he said, looking at my coat.

I reached inside my heavy wool coat and pulled out the book.

The leather cover was spotted with rain, but the pages inside were dry.

I set it on the desk between us.

“This is what they wanted,” I said.

“This is why Killian turned on you.”

Aries sat down on one of the metal chairs.

He rubbed his temples, his sensitivity to the flickering light clearly bothering him.

“Open it,” he said.

I pulled the second chair closer to the desk and sat.

My fingers were stiff from the cold.

I opened the ledger to the first page.

The columns were filled with neat, handwritten numbers and dates.