“They poisoned your suits to dull your senses,” I explained, pointing to the chemical names listed under the cargo columns. “It was a specialized neurotoxin. It made you sensitive to sound and light so you wouldn’t notice them taking over the shipping lanes.”

Aries touched the paper, his fingers tracing the Marcone crest.

“They wanted me to think I was losing my mind,” Aries said, his voice dropping to a gravelly register.

“They wanted the Syndicate Council to vote you out,” I said. “This ledger proves they paid off the port authority to frame your men for smuggling.”

Killian looked up from the floor, his face pale.

“Aries, I didn’t know about the port authority frame-up,” Killian said. “They told me it was just contraband.”

Aries didn’t look at him.

He kept his eyes on the paper.

“This is what we need,” Aries said, a cold smile touching his lips.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The Syndicate Council operates on rules,” Aries said. “They tolerate ambition. They do not tolerate a family that uses poison and frame-ups to steal from the collective pool.”