Chapter 15 · Whispers at the Gate

The blotter was bare.

Two in the morning, and my palm was pressed flat against the cold green leather like I could force the page back into existence if I pushed hard enough.

Nothing. Just a clean rectangle where my bait had been, and the dehumidifier humming in the corner like an idiot.

The lock wasn't scratched. No bent pins. No force. Somebody had unlocked the counting room with a key, taken what I left out to catch them, and locked the door behind them.

Three people had keys. Dominic. Enzo. And Gia.

I didn't even want to think her name.

I took the back stairs barefoot. Through the tall library window, headlights cut two yellow slits through the gate down at the end of the drive. Idling.

Nobody comes up Cinder Point at two in the morning to be polite.

I shoved through the terrace doors. The lake wind hit me like wet ice, plastering my sleep shirt against my ribs. Gravel chewed the bottoms of my feet, but I stayed low along the boxwoods until the voices reached me.

"Not tonight," a woman whispered. "He's already watching the perimeter.