I pointed to the dates on the translucent paper.

“Look at the dates, Killian,” I said. “This started three months ago. Before Aries even felt the first symptom.”

“They told me it was a leverage play,” Killian said, his head dropping back against the filing cabinet. “They said they just wanted a seat at the table.”

“They wanted the whole room,” I said.

The sound of two muffled thuds echoed from the gravel yard outside.

Then, the engine of the truck died.

Silence returned, save for the steady drumming of the rain.

The side door creaked open.

Aries stepped back into the office, his breathing slightly shallow.

His coat was wet, but his hands were steady.

“The men are gone,” Aries said.

He looked at me, then at the translucent paper spread across the desk.

“What did you find, Sienna?” he asked.

I held up the thin sheet of parchment.

“The evidence,” I said. “It wasn’t just Killian. The Marcones orchestrated the entire thing.”

Aries walked over to the desk, his boots squeaking on the linoleum floor.

He leaned down, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting and the crossed-keys crest.