Thirty-one minutes before Vince finally entered the meeting room, the empty chair beside Mila had already become unbearable.
She had stopped looking at it several minutes ago.
That did not mean she had stopped noticing it.
The chair sat angled slightly away from the table, untouched except for the black folder Tala had placed on its seat after growing tired of holding it. No jacket hung from the back. No scarred hand rested against the polished wood. No slouched, exhausted body occupied far more space than it had been given.
Vince was late.
Tala had counted every minute.
The room itself seemed designed to make lateness feel like a criminal offense separate from all the actual crimes committed by the people inside it.
The Gilded Hour’s upper dining chamber was long, windowless, and too carefully elegant to feel comfortable. Dark wood covered the walls from floor to ceiling, interrupted by narrow gold panels and two heavy doors positioned at opposite ends of the room.
One entrance belonged to Black Meridian.
The other had been reserved for the Seven Virtues.
Neutrality, apparently, required separate doors.
A narrow clock had been mounted high on the wall between them. Its hands moved without sound, though Tala continued glancing toward it as if she could hear every second being taken from her personally.
A single table occupied the center of the chamber.
It was not round.
Round tables suggested equality, and nobody involved in planning the meeting had possessed enough optimism to pretend that was possible.
Instead, the table was long and dark, with Black Meridian arranged along one side and eight chairs facing them—seven for the division leaders and one at their center for Evelyn Veyra.
Sealed bottles of water had been placed at each setting. The glasses were spotless. The silverware had been removed before either group arrived, either as a security measure or because someone had correctly assumed Kira could weaponize a fork.
Mila had surrendered her usual phone along with two concealed blades the neutral security team had cataloged without comment.
Her smaller emergency device remained strapped beneath the inside of her thigh.
Reid knew it was there.
The guards did not.
That was how neutrality worked in Calder. Everyone agreed to the rules, then quietly prepared for everyone else to break them.
Ren leaned back in his chair to Mila’s left, one ankle resting over the opposite knee. His suit was darker than what he usually wore, though he had already loosened the collar and abandoned any attempt to look fully formal. The pale highlights in his honey-brown hair caught beneath the hanging lights whenever he turned his head.
He looked relaxed.
Mila knew better.
Ren only became that casual when the room required him to pay attention to everything at once.
On his other side, Reid sat straighter, a black folder open in front of him. He had reviewed the same three pages twice since they arrived. His eyes moved over the figures without lingering, but his gaze lifted toward the Black Meridian entrance whenever footsteps passed in the corridor.
Tala sat to Mila’s right with a mechanical pencil held between two fingers.
She was not writing with it.
She was tapping its eraser against the margin of a freight report in a slow, steady rhythm that had grown increasingly violent over the last ten minutes.
Daigo occupied the center seat.
He had said almost nothing since they entered.
His dark suit was perfectly fitted, though he wore no tie, and his brown hair had been pushed away from his face with less care than the setting seemed to demand. The green of his eyes appeared darker beneath the low lighting. He sat with one hand resting beside his unopened folder, his posture controlled without being stiff.
He had looked toward Vince’s chair twice.
Only twice.
Mila suspected that was why everyone else had begun noticing it more.
Tala’s pencil struck the page again.
Ren glanced toward her hand. “You know the report can’t feel pain.”
“It isn’t the report I’m imagining.”
“Vince?”
Tala turned her head.
Ren smiled.
The pencil stopped.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said.
“Not all of it.”
“You have been making jokes for twenty minutes.”
“That’s because you look like you’re about to invoice the furniture.”
“I am considering it.”
Mila lowered her gaze before either of them noticed the smile threatening at the corner of her mouth.
The door behind Black Meridian remained closed.
There had been no message from Vince since the short reply he had sent Reid almost an hour earlier.
On my way.
With Vince, that could mean he was three blocks away, across the city, or standing in an alley deciding whether the person in front of him deserved to keep all ten fingers.
Mila had sent one message of her own before surrendering her phone.
Do not make Tala come looking for you.
He had not answered.
That was less concerning than if he had.
“Thirty-two minutes,” Tala said.
Ren looked toward the clock. “You said thirty-one less than a minute ago.”
“That is how time works.”
“I’ve always suspected.”
Reid closed the folder.
The quiet sound ended the conversation.
“He’ll arrive,” he said.
Tala looked at him. “That is not the problem.”
“No. The problem is that you want him to arrive apologetic.”
“I would settle for conscious.”
“That may be ambitious,” Ren said.
Tala’s glare shifted toward him.
Daigo finally spoke.
“Enough.”
He did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
The room settled around the word.
Tala placed the pencil flat against the report. Ren lowered his foot and sat forward slightly. Reid’s hand returned to the folder, though he did not reopen it.
Mila folded her hands beneath the edge of the table.
Daigo looked once toward the empty chair.
“If Vince arrives after the meeting begins, he joins quietly.”
Ren’s brows lifted.
Tala asked, “And if he doesn’t?”
“He will.”
There was no visible concern in Daigo’s face.
There was also no room in the answer for further discussion.
Mila turned her attention toward the opposite side of the table.
The Seven Virtues had not arrived yet, but their places had already been prepared with the kind of precision people used when they wanted hierarchy to appear natural.
Evelyn Veyra’s chair stood directly across from Daigo’s. It was identical to every other chair, though no one looking at the arrangement would have mistaken it for anything but the head of her side.
Humility’s seat had been placed nearest to her right, with a smaller chair positioned behind it for Vesper. Charity’s place waited beside the stack of financial reports. Diligence’s setting faced the maps and freight records spread across the table.
Patience had been seated several places away from Humility.
That had not happened by accident.
Kindness’s chair stood near the center, where Julian would be able to see nearly everyone without turning his head. Chastity and Temperance had been separated by two seats, presumably because the club’s management had hosted them together before and learned from the experience.
Mila had reviewed the arrangement the moment she entered.
Adrian would be directly across from her.
That had not happened by accident either.
She did not know whether Evelyn, Adrian, or the club had chosen the seating.
It did not matter.
Adrian would behave as though he had.
Ren leaned slightly toward her.
“You’re staring at his chair.”
“I’m reviewing the table.”
“Of course.”
“You should try it.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Eight dangerous people, one of whom will spend most of the evening pretending he arranged where you’re sitting.”
Mila glanced toward him.
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
“But he’ll want me to wonder.”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t.”
Ren’s crooked smile appeared briefly. “That’ll ruin his night.”
Across the table, the Seven Virtues’ door opened.
The first person through was not one of the seven.
Vesper entered carrying a tablet against her chest and a slim black case tucked beneath one arm. Her red hair had been pinned away from her face, though several loose strands framed the pink glasses resting across her nose. Layers of moss green and brown softened the formality of the room around her, making her look as though she had taken a wrong turn on the way to a quiet bookshop.
Her eyes moved quickly.
Doors.
Guards.
Table.
Black Meridian.
Empty chair.
Mila.
The assessment lasted less than a second.
Vesper offered a small, professional smile and moved toward the place prepared behind Humility’s seat. She set down the case, woke the tablet, and began arranging documents before Adrian entered.
Naturally.
Adrian Mercer, division leader of Humility, stepped into the room as though he had been invited to a celebration held specifically in his honor.
His black suit fit perfectly. His dark hair had been slicked back, exposing the sharp line of his undercut and leaving the scar behind his ear mostly hidden. He wore no visible weapon. Mila assumed that meant he had brought several people who did.
His gaze found Daigo first.
Then Ren.
Then Reid.
It passed over Tala with polite acknowledgment before settling on Mila.
The smile that followed was restrained enough to survive the setting.
“Milena.”
He said her name as though they had paused a conversation several hours ago rather than last spoken across a guarded table weeks earlier.
“Adrian.”
“You look well.”
“You look prepared.”
“I would hate to disappoint you.”
“I’m sure you’d survive.”
“I’m not.”
Vesper looked down at her tablet.
Ren looked toward the ceiling.
Tala quietly picked up her pencil again.
Adrian moved toward his chair but did not sit. He rested one hand against its back and looked over the table.
“I see Mr. Slader is making an entrance.”
“He isn’t here,” Reid said.
“That was the observation.”
“He’ll arrive,” Daigo replied.
Adrian’s attention shifted toward him.
“I would never suggest otherwise.”
The sentence managed to sound respectful while implying several other things.
Daigo did not respond.
The next person through the door was Valentine Sorel.
He had removed the deep plum coat Mila had seen him wear at previous meetings, leaving him in a fitted black suit and a dark silk shirt open at the throat. Gold chains rested against his skin. Several rings caught the light as he adjusted one cuff.
His eyes moved toward Mila almost immediately.
They always did.
Unlike Adrian, Valentine did not pretend the interest served a professional purpose.
“Mila.”
“Valentine.”
“You’re still refusing my invitations.”
“You keep sending bad ones.”
“I sent flowers.”
“You sent them to an apartment I wasn’t using.”
“I considered that mysterious.”
“I considered it a security problem.”
Valentine placed one hand against his chest. “You wound me.”
“You recover quickly.”
“Only physically.”
Adrian sat without looking toward him. “Do try not to flirt before Evelyn arrives.”
Valentine’s gaze slid to him.
“I wasn’t aware I required your supervision.”
“You require someone’s.”
Vesper’s fingers paused above her tablet for half a beat.
Mila noticed.
So did Valentine.
The smile he gave Adrian was soft enough to make the exchange worse.
Before either could continue, Delphine Moreau entered behind him wearing sunglasses and carrying an amber drink inside a low crystal glass.
The neutral security agreement had prohibited outside beverages.
Delphine had apparently interpreted that as a suggestion.
Her long dark hair fell in wine-red waves over the shoulders of a shimmering bronze jacket. Gold hoops swung from her ears as she crossed the room and dropped into Temperance’s seat.
She set the glass on the table.
Tala looked at it.
Then at Delphine.
“That came through security?”
Delphine leaned back. “Everything comes through security if you ask correctly.”
“You mean bribe.”
“I mean tip.”
Reid looked toward the guard stationed inside the Seven Virtues’ entrance.
The man stared straight ahead.
Delphine lifted the glass toward him.
“Professional,” she said.
The door opened again.
Cecily Vautrin entered carrying a structured leather handbag and a narrow stack of cream folders. Her dark chestnut hair had been arranged in a polished braid, and the soft green of her dress made her appear more suited to a charitable board meeting than a criminal negotiation.
Mila watched her take in the room.
The empty chair.
Tala’s reports.
Delphine’s drink.
Adrian’s position across from Mila.
Nothing in Cecily’s expression changed.
She smiled warmly at Daigo, greeted Ren and Reid by name, then turned toward Tala.
“Miss Amore.”
“Cecily.”
“I read your valuation of the Southline properties.”
Tala’s fingers tightened around the pencil. “Did you?”
“It was impressively cautious.”
“That sounds like criticism.”
“It was admiration.”
“From you, those are usually the same thing.”
Cecily’s smile remained gentle. “Perhaps we’ll compare figures.”
“Perhaps we won’t.”
“I brought mine.”
“I assumed.”
Cecily sat and placed the folders neatly before her, aligning them with the table’s edge until every corner matched.
Bastien Ravel arrived several moments later with three people carrying the materials he had apparently been too burdened to transport himself.
He wore rolled sleeves beneath a tailored vest, though his hands were empty except for an expensive watch and the mechanical pencil he used to gesture toward the table.
“Maps there,” he instructed one assistant. “No, the current copies. Those are last quarter.”
“They’re marked current,” the assistant said.
Bastien glanced at the cover without taking it.
“Then someone marked them incorrectly.”
The assistant looked as though she had slept less than Vince and enjoyed it considerably less.
She switched the folders.
Another person placed a coat across the back of Bastien’s chair. A third arranged two sealed envelopes beside his water.
Bastien sat before any of them finished.
Tala watched the entire process.
Mila could practically hear the calculations taking place behind her eyes.
Bastien noticed.
“Something wrong?”
“I’m determining how many people it takes for you to sit down.”
Ren coughed into one hand.
Bastien smiled as though Tala had complimented him. “Delegation is a leadership skill.”
“So is doing one thing yourself.”
“I came personally.”
“How brave.”
Cecily opened a folder to conceal what might have been amusement.
The Seven Virtues’ door opened once more.
Kira entered first.
He wore the dark-red suit Mila remembered from previous meetings, the collar of his black shirt left open beneath it. The scar over his eye stood pale against his skin, and the black-and-red oni mask he used during work hung loosely from one hand.
Remington followed one step behind him.
Her strawberry-blonde hair had been twisted into a tight bun, and her dark professional clothing was pressed so neatly it made Kira’s faintly disordered collar seem more deliberate than it probably was. She carried a file against her chest and spoke quietly enough that Mila only caught the end of the sentence.
“—before you respond.”
Kira did not slow. “I know how a meeting works.”
“Your behavior at the last one suggests otherwise.”
His head turned.
Remi’s expression remained calm.
Too calm.
She had not raised her voice or sharpened the words. She had simply placed them carefully where everyone nearest the door could hear.
Kira’s jaw tightened.
“You advise me,” he said. “You don’t train me.”
“Then stop requiring reminders.”
The room did not go silent.
It became more attentive.
Adrian looked down at his cuff.
Valentine leaned back in his seat.
Delphine removed her sunglasses.
Kira’s fingers flexed around the oni mask.
Remi stepped toward the smaller chair prepared behind Patience’s place, behaving as though the exchange had already ended.
That, more than the correction itself, appeared to anger him.
He dropped into his seat.
The mask struck the table harder than necessary.
Remi placed the folder beside him.
Kira did not look at it.
Mila kept her expression neutral.
Their tension was not new.
The public shape of it was.
Remi had corrected him before, but usually with enough care to preserve the appearance that Kira had reached the decision himself. Tonight she had made no effort to protect his pride.
Kira, in return, had spoken as though her authority existed only because he permitted it.
Neither looked like the reasonable half of anything.
Mila filed the moment away.
Ignoring instability did not make it disappear.
Julian Devereux entered after them.
He wore pale gray beneath a dark coat, his blond hair brushed loosely away from his forehead. Nothing about him appeared hurried. He closed the door quietly behind himself and greeted the room with a warmth that might have seemed genuine if Mila had not known what he did with people once they trusted it.
“Good evening.”
Several people answered.
Mila did not.
Julian’s pale green eyes found her.
“Milena.”
“Julian.”
“You seem tired.”
“I’m in a room with you.”
His smile remained soft. “That wasn’t a denial.”
“It wasn’t an invitation either.”
“No,” he agreed. “It rarely is.”
He took his seat near the center of the table, where he could observe both sides without turning much. His attention drifted once toward Kira and Remi.
Remi had begun reviewing the file she brought.
Kira stared straight ahead.
Julian looked away before either noticed.
Or before they noticed him noticing.
The room was nearly full now.
Only Evelyn’s chair remained empty.
And Vince’s.
Tala checked the clock.
“Thirty-six minutes.”
Adrian glanced toward the empty Black Meridian seat. “Should we send a search party?”
“No,” Daigo said.
The word closed the subject.
The Seven Virtues’ door opened for the final time.
Evelyn Veyra entered alone.
No assistant followed her. No one carried her coat or papers. She wore a tailored black suit with a dark wine-colored blouse beneath it, her auburn hair pinned into a low twist that left the natural silver streak near her temple exposed.
She did not walk quickly.
She did not need to.
The room adjusted around her presence before she reached the table.
Valentine sat straighter.
Delphine moved her drink several inches away from the edge.
Bastien stopped speaking to his assistant and dismissed the remaining staff with a small motion.
Kira’s hand left the oni mask.
Even Adrian’s smile became more restrained.
Evelyn crossed behind the Seven’s chairs and took her place opposite Daigo.
She removed one glove at a time and laid them beside her folder.
Her dark eyes moved across Black Meridian.
Daigo.
Ren.
Reid.
Mila.
Tala.
The empty chair.
She paused there.
Not long enough for anyone to call it dramatic.
Long enough for everyone to notice.
“Are we waiting for your Sloth?” she asked.
Tala looked prepared to answer.
Daigo spoke first.
“No.”
Evelyn’s gaze returned to him.
Something old and unreadable passed between them. Not friendship. Not simple hostility either. The look of two people who had disagreed for long enough to know which arguments the other would make before hearing them.
Evelyn opened her folder.
“Then we begin.”
The guards closed both doors.
Heavy locks settled into place beyond the wood.
The quiet click carried through the room more clearly than the clock ever had.
Mila placed her hands flat against the table and looked across at Adrian as the first photographs were passed forward.
His eyes were already on her.
The meeting had not been underway for ten seconds.
Someone was already trying to win it.
Adrian’s attention remained on Mila as the first photograph reached his side of the table.
She refused to be the first one to look away.
It was a small contest, pointless enough that no one else should have cared and deliberate enough that several people probably did. Adrian’s expression never changed. His fingers rested lightly beside the photograph Vesper had placed before him, his posture suggesting patience rather than challenge.
Mila knew better than to mistake patience for passivity.
She let three seconds pass.
Then she turned toward the evidence, because allowing Adrian to believe he had distracted her would be more irritating than giving him the satisfaction of watching her break eye contact.
The photograph in front of Daigo showed the inside of a delivery truck.
At least, what remained of one.
The rear doors had been forced open. Several wooden crates lay broken across the metal floor, their contents removed so thoroughly that only splinters, strips of black packing material, and one torn inventory label remained behind. Dark streaks marked the wall near the doors. Blood, most likely, though the image had been printed without color.
A second photograph showed the same truck abandoned beneath an overpass in the Southline corridor.
A Black Meridian symbol had been painted across the passenger door.
It was too large.
Too clean.
Too obviously placed.
Mila looked toward Reid.
He had already reached the same conclusion. She saw it in the slight narrowing of his eyes as he studied the angle of the symbol rather than the damaged vehicle around it.
Vesper continued distributing photographs without speaking.
One landed before Tala.
Another before Ren.
A third stopped beneath Mila’s hand.
This one had been taken inside a warehouse.
A seven-pointed halo had been painted across the concrete floor in white. A dark line split the center, meant to resemble a downward blade.
Someone had left three empty ammunition cases at the center of the design.
Mila lowered the photograph.
“Subtle.”
Across from her, Valentine glanced at the image. “Perhaps subtlety wasn’t the intention.”
“It usually isn’t when someone paints their accusation large enough to photograph from the ceiling,” Reid said.
Evelyn turned one of the images beneath her fingertips. “The warehouse belonged to Charity.”
“Belongs,” Cecily corrected gently. “It remains mine.”
Evelyn’s eyes moved toward her.
Cecily smiled.
“The damage is inconvenient,” she continued, “not permanent.”
Tala opened the first page of the report before her. “The insurance claim lists the property under Arcadian Housing Development.”
“One of my companies.”
“One of forty-three?”
“Forty-six.”
Tala looked up.
Cecily’s expression remained pleasant.
“Three acquisitions closed this month.”
“Of course they did.”
Daigo examined the photograph of the abandoned truck before passing it to Ren.
“Start from the beginning.”
Evelyn looked toward Vesper.
Vesper straightened slightly behind Adrian’s chair. Her tablet was already open, a dark stylus held between two fingers.
“Nine days ago,” she began, “a Black Meridian transport vehicle failed to arrive at a secured storage site near West Hallow. The truck was located eleven hours later beneath the Keating overpass in Southline. Its driver and guard were missing. The cargo had been removed.”
Reid’s gaze remained on the photograph.
“The vehicle transponder stopped transmitting at two seventeen in the morning.”
Vesper nodded. “At two nineteen, the route camera covering Mercer Avenue experienced a temporary outage.”
“Temporary?” Ren asked.
“Seven minutes and forty-three seconds.”
“Specific.”
“The system restored itself.”
“Systems do that when someone wants the outage to look accidental,” Mila said.
Vesper glanced toward her. “Yes.”
There was no defensiveness in the answer. No attempt to claim the observation for herself.
Adrian looked between them, faintly amused by the agreement.
Vesper continued.
“Three days later, a shipment belonging to Temperance disappeared from a Diligence-operated freight yard. The shipment contained pharmaceutical precursors, laboratory glassware, and two sealed chemical containers.”
“Three,” Delphine said.
Vesper checked her tablet. “The manifest listed two.”
“The manifest was wrong.”
Bastien leaned back. “The manifest came from your office.”
“The official manifest came from my office.”
Reid looked toward her. “Meaning?”
Delphine took a slow drink.
Evelyn glanced at the glass.
Delphine lowered it.
“Meaning there were three containers.”
Tala stared at her. “You concealed part of the shipment from the people transporting it?”
“I concealed it from anyone reading the paperwork.”
“That includes the people responsible for noticing when it goes missing.”
“They noticed.”
“After it went missing.”
Delphine smiled across the table.
It was not friendly.
Daigo looked toward her. “What was in the third container?”
Her smile faded.
For a moment, she appeared entirely sober.
“A stabilizing compound.”
“For what?” Mila asked.
“A product still in testing.”
“What does it do?”
“It keeps the product from becoming unpredictable.”
Tala closed her eyes briefly. “That sentence should not exist.”
Reid’s expression remained still.
“How dangerous is the material without it?”
“The stolen materials were separate.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Delphine tapped one fingernail against the side of her glass. “Dangerous enough that I would prefer Calder’s ambitious idiots not experiment with it.”
Kira leaned forward slightly. “Then we find one ambitious idiot and ask where the rest are.”
Remi’s gaze remained on the report in front of her. “We don’t know who took it.”
“We find someone who does.”
“That is not a plan.”
“It works.”
“Eventually,” Julian said.
Kira looked toward him.
Julian had not shifted in his seat. His hands remained folded loosely beside his untouched water.
“Violence produces answers,” he continued, “but not necessarily accurate ones. Particularly when the person being questioned believes any answer will stop the pain.”
Kira’s mouth curved without warmth. “You prefer they cry voluntarily.”
“I prefer they tell me something useful.”
“You prefer listening to yourself.”
Julian’s expression softened with what might have passed for concern on anyone else.
“You seem tense.”
Kira’s hand moved toward the oni mask.
Remi placed two fingers against the edge of the folder he had ignored.
“We are not doing this here.”
He turned toward her. “We?”
Her eyes lifted.
“You.”
Kira stared at her.
Remi returned her attention to the folder.
She had won the exchange because she had ended it.
The anger in Kira’s face suggested he knew.
Evelyn allowed the silence to hold for another second before returning her attention to Vesper.
“The third incident.”
Vesper touched the tablet.
A new image appeared on the narrow screen built into the center of the table. It showed the exterior of a warehouse in daylight, its loading doors closed and windows intact.
“Two nights ago, one of Charity’s Southline properties was entered without visible damage to the locks or alarm system. Nothing of significant financial value was taken.”
Cecily folded her hands over the first page of her report. “That depends on how one values private records.”
Tala looked up.
“What records?”
“Tenant histories. Payment schedules. Loan agreements. Property-access codes. A partial list of businesses currently negotiating extensions.”
Reid’s focus sharpened. “Copies or originals?”
“Digital copies were accessed. Four physical files are missing.”
“Whose?”
Cecily paused.
Not because she did not know.
Because she was deciding how much to say.
“One belongs to a shipping company operating along the southern docks. One belongs to a city-contracted sanitation service. One concerns a private medical supplier.”
“And the fourth?” Daigo asked.
Cecily’s thumb moved once across the scar in her palm.
“A family.”
The answer altered the room slightly.
Ren’s posture changed. Daigo’s gaze settled more fully on Cecily.
“What family?” Reid asked.
“That information is not relevant to the freight corridor.”
“If someone stole it with the others, it is relevant.”
Cecily’s smile returned, quieter this time. “I disagree.”
Tala placed her pencil down. “You brought us here because someone entered your warehouse.”
“I brought no one here.”
“You agreed to the meeting.”
“As did you.”
“Because the same people may be hitting both gangs.”
“Which does not entitle Black Meridian to every private record I possess.”
Reid did not blink. “It entitles us to know whether the fourth file connects to the other thefts.”
“It does not.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
The confidence came too quickly.
Mila watched Cecily’s left hand instead of her face.
Her thumb had stopped moving over the scar.
A stillness chosen rather than natural.
Cecily was not necessarily lying. She might simply have been protecting a weakness she refused to place before the table.
That was enough to matter.
Adrian leaned back slightly. “We can return to the fourth file if the connection becomes necessary.”
Reid looked toward him. “That is not your decision.”
“No,” Adrian agreed pleasantly. “It is Cecily’s.”
“It became the table’s decision when she included the break-in as evidence.”
“Enough,” Evelyn said.
Her tone remained level.
Cecily’s hand stopped.
Reid leaned back by less than an inch.
Evelyn looked toward him. “If the fourth file becomes relevant, you will receive what is necessary.”
It was not an offer of the full information.
Reid knew it.
His jaw tightened, but he gave one brief nod.
Evelyn turned toward Cecily. “And you will not decide relevance alone.”
Cecily’s expression held.
Then she inclined her head.
“Of course.”
Tala reopened the report.
Vesper changed the image on the screen.
The abandoned Black Meridian truck appeared beside a photograph of the Charity warehouse floor. The symbols had been placed side by side.
“The Meridian mark was found on the transport vehicle,” Vesper said. “The Seven Virtues’ emblem was found inside Charity’s warehouse. Both appear intended to assign responsibility for the opposing incident.”
Bastien looked toward her. “You called that your current assessment. What remains unconfirmed?”
Vesper’s stylus paused.
“The Meridian mark is wrong.”
Mila looked toward the image.
She had recognized that it felt too clean. Reid had noticed the scale. Vesper had found something else.
“Where?” Ren asked.
“The lower point.”
Vesper enlarged the photograph.
The black design filled the center of the screen. Black Meridian’s symbol was simple enough to reproduce from a distance, but one narrow curve near the bottom had been cut too sharply.
“The mark used on internal properties has a break here,” Vesper said, indicating the curve. “This version does not. It matches an image published three years ago after the North Canal arrests.”
Reid’s eyes narrowed. “A press photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Public source,” Mila said.
Vesper nodded.
She shifted to the Seven Virtues symbol.
The seven-pointed halo looked correct at first glance. The blade divided the center. The spacing appeared even. The paint had been applied in a single layer.
Vesper circled the upper-right point.
“This section bends inward. The official symbol bends out.”
Valentine studied the screen. “Tragic.”
Delphine glanced at him. “You seem personally wounded.”
“I dislike poor imitation.”
“You enjoy it when people imitate you.”
“Only when they do it beautifully.”
Adrian looked toward the symbol. “Whoever painted it had a public reference.”
“Or someone who had seen it without understanding its construction,” Mila said.
His attention moved to her.
“I was going to say the same.”
“Then I saved us time.”
“I’m always grateful when you make my work easier.”
“You should try doing that for Vesper.”
The words left the room quiet for half a beat.
Vesper’s eyes remained on her tablet.
Adrian’s smile did not disappear, but something behind it tightened.
Mila had watched Vesper enter first, arrange every document, anticipate every question, and sit behind the man receiving credit for arriving prepared.
Adrian rested one hand against the edge of the photograph.
“Vesper’s work is always appreciated.”
The phrasing was perfect.
Too perfect.
Vesper did not look up.
Evelyn watched Mila.
Daigo moved the conversation forward.
“So the symbols were copied.”
Vesper nodded once. “That is our current assessment.”
The lock behind Black Meridian’s door shifted before anyone could respond.
Every head on their side of the table turned.
A brief exchange passed through the wood, too muffled for Mila to distinguish, followed by the release of the heavy lock.
The door opened.
The Seven had been seated for only a handful of minutes when Vince finally stepped through.
Rain still darkened the shoulders of his jacket. His bleached hair remained damp and disordered, his shirt wrinkled beneath the open jacket, and the scars across his forearm caught pale beneath the hanging lights when he pushed the door closed behind himself.
His gaze moved through the room quickly.
Daigo first.
Then Ren and Reid.
Mila.
Tala.
Only after accounting for every person on Black Meridian’s side did he look across the table at the Seven Virtues.
His attention returned briefly to the door behind him.
A small glance.
Barely there.
As though part of him had remained on the floor below.
Mila noticed.
Across from her, Adrian did too.
Tala looked toward the clock.
“You found another six minutes to waste.”
Vince crossed toward his chair. “You’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t thanking you.”
“You sounded emotional.”
“I’m calculating how much to deduct from your next payment.”
“Add it to Bastien’s.”
Bastien looked up from his files. “Why mine?”
“You look like you can afford it.”
Delphine lifted her glass in lazy agreement.
Vince reached his chair and found the black folder Tala had abandoned on its seat. He picked it up, dropped it onto the table, and sat without opening it.
Daigo watched him settle.
He did not ask where Vince had been immediately. That would have turned a private failure into entertainment for the opposite side.
Instead, he pushed the nearest photographs toward him.
“Two stolen shipments. One warehouse breach. Both organizations’ marks were left behind, and both were copied incorrectly.”
Vince glanced down.
“The Meridian one is from the North Canal picture.”
Vesper’s stylus paused.
Reid looked toward him. “You recognized it?”
“The lower point is wrong.”
Mila glanced at the screen, then back at Vince.
He had barely been seated for ten seconds.
Tala folded her arms. “Wonderful. You are both late and observant.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“You contain unpaid expenses.”
Vince ignored her and looked toward the photograph of the Seven Virtues’ emblem.
“That one’s wrong too.”
Valentine rested one elbow against the table. “Thank you. We had begun to worry no one appreciated the insult.”
Vince gave him a tired look. “I didn’t say it was good.”
Valentine smiled.
Daigo let the exchange end before looking toward Vince again.
“Anything happen on the way here?”
The question sounded ordinary.
Mila knew it was not.
Vince’s gaze remained on the photographs.
“No.”
A pause.
Then he added, “I picked someone up.”
Ren’s eyebrows lifted with immediate recognition.
Tala looked toward Vince more sharply.
Mila felt the answer settle somewhere uncomfortable beneath her ribs, but she kept her expression still.
Daigo studied Vince for one quiet second.
“Are they secure?”
“Yes.”
That was enough for now.
Daigo turned back toward the table.
“Continue.”
Vesper changed the image on the screen, and the meeting moved on.
Daigo looked toward the map spread between Bastien and Reid.
“Show the routes.”
Bastien pulled the largest sheet toward himself without rising. His assistants had marked the Southline corridor in several colors. Red lines indicated Diligence freight routes. Black marked Meridian movement. Pale green identified properties controlled by Charity. Blue circles surrounded transport cameras, toll points, and contracted city facilities.
The overlap was immediately obvious.
A narrow stretch of warehouses, service roads, and rail crossings connected both organizations’ territories without belonging cleanly to either.
Vince opened the folder Tala had left for him, scanning the first page while Bastien spoke.
“Southline was never designed for this volume,” Bastien said. “Half the roads were built for industrial traffic thirty years ago and never properly expanded. Camera coverage is inconsistent. City maintenance is worse. Any disruption along Mercer Avenue forces freight through the western access roads.”
“Which you control,” Reid said.
“I manage several businesses operating there.”
“You control them.”
Bastien gave him a patient smile. “That is a simplified interpretation.”
“It is the accurate interpretation.”
“The route involves contractors, unions, city permits, private owners, and independent drivers.”
“Who report to your supervisors.”
“Some.”
“Who report to you.”
“Eventually.”
Tala leaned toward the map. “How long was the altered route in effect?”
Bastien glanced at one of the smaller sheets.
“Which route?”
“The missing Temperance shipment.”
“That decision was made locally.”
“By whom?”
“A night dispatcher.”
“Name.”
Bastien looked toward her.
Tala waited.
He turned the mechanical pencil between his fingers. “Marisol Dane authorized the change.”
Mila noticed the hesitation.
So did Reid.
Vince looked up from his folder.
“Why?” Reid asked.
“The eastern gate was blocked.”
“By what?”
“A damaged sanitation vehicle.”
Cecily looked down at one of her files.
Reid saw it.
“Your sanitation company?”
“Not mine,” Cecily said.
“One of your borrowers?”
Her pause answered before she did.
“The company has an outstanding agreement with my division.”
Tala exhaled slowly. “So a sanitation vehicle belonging to someone indebted to Charity blocks a Diligence route carrying unlisted materials for Temperance, and the altered path moves the shipment through the same camera gap used during the Meridian theft.”
Delphine pointed lightly toward her. “When you say it like that, it sounds suspicious.”
“It is suspicious.”
“I thought it sounded efficient.”
“Your containers are gone.”
Delphine smiled into her glass.
Mila leaned closer to the map.
“What happened to the sanitation vehicle?”
Cecily looked toward Vesper.
Vesper touched the tablet.
“It was towed at four twelve in the morning.”
“By whom?” Mila asked.
“Ravel Recovery and Transport.”
Every gaze moved toward Bastien.
He did not react immediately.
Then he looked down at the map as if the company name had been printed there without his knowledge.
“That is one of my subcontractors.”
“One you own?” Tala asked.
“One in which I hold an indirect interest.”
“Meaning yes.”
“Meaning the legal structure is more complicated.”
“Only because you made it that way.”
Bastien’s tone remained calm. “The tow order was routine.”
“Where is the vehicle now?” Reid asked.
Bastien glanced toward the documents his assistant had arranged.
“It should be at the Garrison impound yard.”
“Should be?” Vince repeated.
Bastien’s gaze shifted toward him. “The yard keeps its own records.”
Vince leaned back. “That wasn’t reassuring.”
Reid’s expression flattened. “You came to a meeting about missing freight without confirming the location of the vehicle that changed its route?”
“I received the information twenty minutes before leaving.”
Tala looked toward the empty space where his assistants had been.
“How terrible that no one was available to help you.”
Bastien’s smile thinned.
Cecily closed one folder and opened another.
“The vehicle never reached Garrison.”
The statement drew the attention away from him.
Bastien turned toward her. “How would you know?”
“The company owner called me yesterday regarding a payment extension. He mentioned that the vehicle remained missing and his city contract may be suspended.”
“You knew this yesterday?” Reid asked.
“I knew a sanitation vehicle had disappeared. I did not know it was involved in the shipment route until tonight.”
“Did you ask why it vanished?” Vince asked.
Cecily looked toward him.
“I asked whether the disappearance interfered with his ability to make payment.”
Tala gave her a look of open disbelief.
Cecily returned it calmly.
“He said it did.”
“Heartwarming,” Ren murmured.
Cecily’s gaze shifted to him. “I extended the deadline.”
“That changes everything.”
“I thought so.”
Mila looked back at the map before Cecily could decide whether Ren deserved a lesson in gratitude.
The route alteration, missing sanitation truck, camera failure, and copied symbols formed something more deliberate than opportunistic theft.
Whoever had planned it understood enough about both organizations to predict how each part would react.
They knew Temperance concealed materials.
They knew Diligence pushed decisions through layers of exhausted employees.
They knew Charity’s borrowers operated across the city.
They knew Black Meridian used Southline when the western corridor became crowded.
But they did not know the internal symbols well enough to reproduce them correctly.
Access without intimacy.
Observation without membership.
Mila tapped one fingernail lightly beside the camera gap.
“They’ve been watching.”
Adrian’s attention sharpened across from her. “Obviously.”
“Not the roads.”
She traced the route with her gaze.
“The divisions.”
The table quieted.
Mila pointed toward the blocked gate.
“Someone knew a sanitation vehicle could interfere with Bastien’s route without raising immediate suspicion. They knew Delphine’s shipment mattered enough that losing it would force a response, but not enough about the manifest to know what was actually inside.”
Delphine’s brows lifted slightly.
“They knew Charity kept records at that warehouse,” Mila continued, “but stole several kinds of files because they didn’t know which one they needed. They knew how Black Meridian moves through Southline, but copied our mark from a press image.”
Ren leaned forward, his earlier humor gone.
“So they can see the structure.”
“But not inside it,” Reid finished.
Adrian’s fingers rested against his folded hands. “An outside observer with access to employees.”
“Or several,” Mila said.
“Drivers,” Bastien added. “Clerks. Contractors.”
“Club employees,” Delphine said.
“Borrowers,” Cecily admitted.
“People who talk when someone makes them feel important,” Valentine said.
His gaze moved briefly toward Adrian.
Adrian did not give him the reaction he wanted.
Vince looked down at the list of affected businesses and workers.
“People who don’t know they’re talking,” he added. “Ask someone what time a truck arrives. What gate stays open. Who locks up. It doesn’t sound important until someone puts all of it together.”
Julian looked at him with quiet interest.
“Experience?”
Vince did not lift his eyes.
“Common sense.”
Julian’s mouth curved faintly.
The paired symbols remained on the screen.
“They want anger before understanding,” Julian said.
Kira leaned back. “They have it.”
Julian’s eyes shifted toward him.
“So I noticed.”
Remi’s mouth tightened.
Kira saw that too.
“Say it,” he told her.
“I didn’t speak.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
His chair shifted sharply against the floor as he turned toward her.
Remi remained still, but Mila saw the tension enter her shoulders.
“Every time I open my mouth,” Kira said, “you look at me like you’re waiting to clean up after it.”
“Because I usually am.”
“You volunteered for the job.”
“And you have spent four years making certain I regret it.”
The words were quiet.
They were also far more personal than anything that belonged at the table.
Kira’s expression changed.
Wounded first.
Then furious that anyone might have noticed.
Remi seemed to realize too late that she had said more than intended. She straightened one page of the folder and looked toward Evelyn as though returning to business could erase the sentence.
It could not.
Neither looked like a victim.
Kira treated her judgment like a resource he owned. Remi knew exactly how to humiliate him in front of people whose respect he wanted.
Four years had taught them where to press.
Evelyn’s voice cut through the tension.
“This is not the place.”
Remi lowered her eyes. “Of course.”
Kira looked forward.
Neither apologized.
Julian reached for his water, though he did not drink.
“The intended response remains relevant,” he said. “These incidents were constructed to feel personal. Theft creates caution. Insult creates retaliation.”
Valentine turned one ring around his finger. “The symbols are too theatrical to function as evidence.”
“They aren’t evidence,” Adrian said. “They are permission.”
Daigo looked toward him.
Adrian continued.
“Permission for both organizations to believe what they are already prepared to believe. Meridian sees our mark and assumes the Seven have become ambitious. We find yours and assume Daigo has decided sentiment no longer makes him cautious.”
Ren’s mouth curved faintly. “You think we’re sentimental?”
“I think you prefer the word loyal.”
“And you prefer ambitious.”
Adrian smiled. “I find accuracy elegant.”
“Then you should try it.”
“Children,” Delphine said into her glass.
Vince glanced toward her. “You’re drinking before eight.”
“I’m thriving.”
“Your hand is shaking.”
Delphine’s fingers tightened around the glass.
For a moment, the amusement vanished from her face.
Then she smiled.
“Concern from Sloth. I should frame the evening.”
“Don’t. It’ll depreciate.”
Evelyn rested one hand against her closed folder.
“Who benefits?”
The question shifted the meeting again.
Tala looked down at the financial reports.
Bastien studied the map.
Cecily’s fingers touched one of her rings.
Mila considered the obvious possibilities first.
E.G.O. moved goods through sections of Southline, but Sterling rarely planned anything requiring this much patience without finding a way to ensure everyone knew he had done it.
Smaller crews might steal one shipment.
Not three connected assets from two major gangs.
A city official could benefit if both organizations weakened each other, but planting symbols risked violence no official could fully control.
A third gang could be testing territory.
Or trying to create space where none existed.
Tala broke the silence.
“Someone has been changing the service traffic.”
Bastien’s pencil stopped moving.
Reid looked toward her. “What did you find?”
Tala turned one report sideways and pushed it closer to the center.
“The freight routes were not the only schedules altered this month. Municipal sanitation pickups, produce deliveries, utility inspections, and commercial supply stops have all shifted along the western edge of Southline.”
Bastien leaned toward the page. “Those are ordinary seasonal adjustments.”
“Some are.”
“And the others?”
“They were requested through businesses that never made the requests.”
Vesper’s stylus moved across her tablet. “We identified four forged service orders.”
“Where?” Evelyn asked.
Tala read the addresses.
A warehouse.
A pharmacy supplier.
A closed laundromat.
Then:
“The Blue Hour.”
Mila’s attention sharpened.
Beside her, Vince stopped turning the page in his folder.
Ren’s posture changed.
Reid pulled the report closer.
Across the table, Adrian’s eyes moved toward Mila before passing briefly over Vince and Ren.
The Blue Hour had belonged to Black Meridian for years. It was one of their oldest public businesses, ordinary enough that most customers never questioned who owned the building or where part of its profits went.
It was legitimate.
The food was legal. The wages were recorded. The staff were civilians unless Black Meridian had specifically placed someone there for another purpose.
Maribel ran the diner carefully and did not allow internal business to interfere with the dining room.
That separation was part of why the place had survived.
Vince’s voice lost its lazy edge.
“What order?”
“A grease-trap inspection,” Tala said. “Submitted nine days ago.”
Ren frowned. “Maribel didn’t request one.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she keeps records like a person who enjoys humiliating accountants.”
Ren’s mouth shifted. “She does.”
Tala pointed to the date. “The inspection was scheduled for four in the morning, before opening. The company listed on the order does not exist.”
“Did anyone arrive?” Daigo asked.
Reid looked toward Vesper.
She changed the image on the central screen.
The photograph was grainier than the others. It had been taken from an exterior camera mounted above the Blue Hour’s rear service door.
A white utility van sat in the alley behind the diner.
The side panel displayed the logo of a sanitation company in faded blue lettering. Two workers stood near the back of the vehicle wearing reflective jackets and caps pulled low.
The timestamp showed 4:06 a.m.
Vince stared at the screen.
Ren leaned closer.
“That’s not one of Maribel’s regular companies.”
“No,” Vesper said. “The van remained in the alley for twelve minutes. No one entered the diner.”
“What did they do?” Mila asked.
Vesper switched to the next still.
One figure stood near the dumpster enclosure. The other had moved beyond the camera’s direct view, toward the narrow service lane connecting the diner’s alley to Mercer Avenue.
A third image showed the van leaving.
“Nothing visible,” Vesper said.
“Then why schedule an inspection?” Cecily asked.
“To have a reason to be there if anyone saw them,” Mila said.
Reid gave one small nod.
The Blue Hour sat far enough from the main freight corridor to appear unrelated but close enough to watch traffic coming off Mercer Avenue. Its rear alley connected to a narrow lane used by delivery vehicles, restaurant suppliers, and city crews.
People ignored vans behind diners.
They belonged there.
“They used it as an observation point,” Mila said.
“Or a transfer point,” Reid replied.
Ren looked toward him. “Nothing was moved on camera.”
“Nothing we could see.”
Vince leaned forward, forearms against the edge of the table.
“Who opened that morning?”
Ren answered before Vesper could search.
“Maribel. José came in around four thirty for prep.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not until five.”
Mila knew what Vince was asking.
Had anyone working inside been alone while strangers stood behind the building?
Had anyone noticed them?
Had the figures been watching the freight route—or the people entering the diner?
Daigo’s eyes remained on the screen.
“Did either approach the rear door?”
“No,” Vesper said. “The motion sensor would have created a separate camera marker.”
“Unless they knew where it stopped,” Vince said.
The room went quiet.
Vesper enlarged the still.
The second figure had disappeared into the narrow strip of darkness between the dumpster wall and the rear edge of the building.
The camera covered most of the alley.
Not all of it.
“The blind section reaches the back corner,” Reid said.
“Where the gas line runs,” Ren added.
“And the outside storage hatch,” Vince said.
Mila looked toward him.
The hatch did not lead directly into the kitchen or dining room, but it allowed maintenance access to pipes beneath the rear portion of the building. It remained locked and alarmed.
At least, it was supposed to.
“Was the hatch checked?” Daigo asked.
Reid’s expression hardened.
“Not specifically. We did not know the service request existed.”
Evelyn watched the exchange without interrupting.
This was Black Meridian’s failure to examine, and she knew it.
Vince did too.
“The lock gets replaced tonight,” he said.
Ren nodded. “I’ll call Maribel.”
“No.”
Ren looked toward him.
“Don’t call her during dinner service and tell her strangers may have been crawling around under the building. Send someone quiet. Check first.”
It was practical.
It was also the most words Vince had offered since entering.
Tala studied him before looking toward Daigo.
Daigo nodded.
“Reid handles the building. Ren handles Maribel. No visible Meridian presence during business hours.”
“Understood,” Reid said.
The answer mattered.
The Blue Hour was not merely another property. Its employees and customers were civilians, never meant to become pieces on Black Meridian’s board.
Vesper changed the image again.
“The same model was recorded near the Charity warehouse two days later.”
A second photograph appeared.
The vehicle was farther away and partially obscured by rain, but the shape matched. White body. High rear doors. Faded sanitation logo.
The plate could not be read.
Delphine leaned forward for the first time since the meeting began. “Was it at the freight yard?”
“We don’t have a clear image from the yard,” Vesper answered. “But a guard reported seeing a service van near the eastern gate before the route was changed.”
Bastien looked toward his files. “That was not included in the initial report.”
“It was included in a supplemental statement submitted this afternoon.”
“By which guard?”
“Leon Graves.”
“I want him brought in.”
Kira smiled faintly. “Finally.”
“Not to you,” Bastien said.
Kira’s smile disappeared.
Julian looked between them. “How quickly unity inspires trust.”
Evelyn ignored the remark. “The Blue Hour cameras?”
“Full footage is being transferred now,” Reid said. “The exterior system keeps thirty days.”
Daigo’s eyes remained on the image.
“Interior?”
“No connection,” Ren answered. “The van never reached the door.”
The answer mattered, but not enough.
Whoever had used the alley had treated the Blue Hour as cover because it was a public business with regular service traffic.
It meant someone knew the location belonged to Black Meridian and believed they could stand behind it without being noticed.
Evelyn looked toward Daigo.
“They used one of your businesses to observe an attack on your own transport.”
“Yes.”
“And no one noticed until tonight.”
The criticism was quiet.
Daigo accepted it without flinching.
“No one had a reason to connect a canceled inspection to the theft.”
“Now you do.”
Ren’s fingers moved once against the table.
His expression had lost the last of its humor.
“Were they watching the route,” he asked, “or watching the diner?”
Vesper checked the report.
“The camera angle does not show where the second person went after leaving the vehicle.”
That was not an answer.
It was the reason Ren had asked.
Reid looked toward him.
“We assume both until we know otherwise.”
Vince sat back slowly.
His hand stopped near the corner of the photograph, two scarred fingers resting against the image of the rear alley.
Luca worked at the Blue Hour now.
The van had appeared before his first shift, but that did little to ease the danger Vince was clearly calculating.
Mila kept the thought from reaching her face.
Across from her, Adrian watched anyway.
She met his gaze.
Whatever conclusion he wanted to draw, he would have to do it without her help.
Valentine tilted his head toward the screen. “The uniforms are wrong.”
Vesper enlarged the image.
“What?” Reid asked.
“The reflective strips.” Valentine pointed toward the nearest figure. “They’re too clean. The jackets have not been worn for actual sanitation work.”
Delphine looked at him. “You’re an expert in garbage collection now?”
“I’m an expert in costumes.”
Mila studied the image.
He was right.
The boots were wrong too. Dark leather beneath disposable covers, with narrow soles unsuited to service work. The figure nearest the van wore gloves, but the cuffs were spotless.
“They dressed to survive a passing glance,” she said.
“Not inspection,” Adrian added.
“Same mistake as the symbols,” Reid said. “Convincing from a distance.”
“But enough operational knowledge to choose the correct alley,” Daigo said.
“And the correct morning,” Mila added. “They knew when the rear lot would be empty.”
Ren’s gaze remained on the screen. “The diner’s delivery schedule isn’t public.”
“Employees know it,” Adrian said.
The words were reasonable.
Ren still looked toward him.
“So do suppliers,” Mila said before the implication could settle too cleanly over the civilians working there. “Produce vendors. Waste collection. Repair workers. Former employees. Customers who visit often enough.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked toward her.
“Protective.”
“Accurate.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
“No,” she said. “But only one is relevant.”
Vince looked across the table at him.
“You always talk this much?”
Adrian’s smile remained. “Only when people are listening.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explained enough.”
Evelyn looked toward Vesper. “Compile every person with access to the Blue Hour’s delivery schedule.”
Reid answered before she could.
“We will handle our employees.”
Evelyn’s dark eyes moved to him.
“I did not suggest otherwise.”
“You suggested compiling them.”
“Through records.”
“Your records stop at your side of the table.”
The silence that followed was restrained but immediate.
Vesper lowered her stylus.
Adrian did not intervene.
Daigo’s gaze stayed on Evelyn.
After a moment, she inclined her head.
“Then provide the cleared list when it is complete.”
Reid did not agree.
Daigo did.
“You’ll receive what is relevant.”
The phrasing mirrored Evelyn’s earlier promise regarding Cecily’s missing file.
Something faint and dry passed through her expression.
“Fair.”
Tala drew a line between the diner, camera gap, freight yard, and Charity warehouse on the map.
“The van connects all three incidents.”
“Possibly,” Bastien said.
“Do you have a better shared connection?”
“No.”
“Then possibly is currently beating your contribution.”
Bastien looked at her. “My contribution is the transportation network keeping half the people in this room profitable.”
“Your network lost a truck, three containers, a sanitation vehicle, and apparently the ability to read witness statements.”
His jaw tightened.
Delphine lifted her glass in Tala’s direction.
“That one was good.”
Ren rubbed one hand across his mouth, concealing a smile that did not belong in the conversation.
Evelyn rested her palm against the folder before her.
“The false service van becomes the priority. We identify the vehicle, uniforms, and every route it used.”
“Then we take the driver,” Kira said.
Remi did not look at him. “If the driver knows anything.”
His head turned.
She continued reading.
The dismissal was deliberate.
Kira’s voice lowered. “Would you prefer we send a questionnaire?”
“I would prefer you stop treating every person near an operation as though cutting them will improve their memory.”
“It usually improves cooperation.”
“It improves desperation.”
“Same result.”
“No,” Julian said quietly. “It is not.”
Kira looked across the table at him.
Julian’s expression remained composed.
“Desperate people tell you what ends the room,” he continued. “Cooperative people tell you what happened before they entered it.”
“You can have what’s left after I’m finished.”
“How generous.”
Kira’s fingers tightened against the table.
Remi closed the folder.
He looked toward her.
“You disagree?”
“I have already given you my answer.”
“And I have already told you what I think of it.”
“Then stop asking questions when you only tolerate obedience.”
The room sharpened.
Kira stared at her.
Remi’s calm did not make her kind. It only made the cut cleaner.
Evelyn regarded them both without favor.
“If either of you intends to make this meeting about your relationship, you may leave together and explain to your division why Patience was absent from a threat assessment.”
Neither moved.
“Good,” Evelyn said.
Daigo looked toward Reid. “What do you need?”
“Full camera footage from the Blue Hour and surrounding businesses. City traffic records. Service-order submissions. Vehicle registrations connected to the false company.”
“Vesper can trace the digital request,” Adrian said.
Reid looked across the table. “She can send the source data.”
Adrian smiled. “You distrust interpretation?”
“I distrust receiving only yours.”
“Healthy.”
“I try.”
Vesper spoke before Adrian could continue.
“I’ll provide the raw files.”
Reid nodded once.
The exchange did not require more.
Mila noticed Adrian glance back at Vesper—not angry enough to be visible, but aware that she had answered independently.
Valentine noticed too.
He seemed delighted by nearly every weakness in the room except his own.
Cecily turned one of the still images toward herself. “The company logo may be copied, but the telephone number is partially visible.”
Vesper enlarged the panel.
Three digits remained clear beneath a smear of road dirt.
Tala wrote them down.
“Could be false,” she said.
“Could be recycled,” Cecily replied. “Businesses disappear. Numbers remain. Someone may have purchased an inactive line.”
“Or taken it from a real company,” Bastien said.
“Which means the real company may have received calls intended for the false one,” Mila added.
Adrian’s gaze shifted to her. “We should speak with them quietly.”
“We?”
His smile warmed. “Our specialties overlap.”
“That does not make us a team.”
“Not yet.”
Ren made a quiet sound beside her.
Mila did not look toward him.
Evelyn regarded Adrian for a moment before turning toward Daigo.
“Humility and Lust can coordinate external contact.”
Mila hated the title when people used it as though it belonged to her rather than her work.
She kept that dislike from reaching her face.
Daigo’s gaze moved toward her.
A question without public pressure.
Mila considered the company number, false service request, and possibility that whoever arranged it had built the disguise through social access rather than technical intrusion alone.
“I’ll handle the business contact,” she said. “Vesper handles the digital trail. Adrian receives the summary.”
Adrian’s smile became almost affectionate.
“You wound me.”
“You recover quickly.”
Valentine laughed from two seats away.
Adrian looked toward him. “You have used that line already.”
“And yet it remained effective.”
“Nothing about you is restrained enough to remain effective.”
“Would you like a private demonstration?”
“No,” Evelyn and Vesper said at the same time.
The room went still.
Vesper’s face changed instantly.
Color rose beneath her freckles.
She looked down at the tablet as though considering whether it might open and swallow her.
Delphine broke first.
Her laughter burst across the table, bright and entirely inappropriate.
Valentine leaned back with one hand over his heart.
Adrian closed his eyes for a brief second.
Even Ren failed to hide his smile.
Vince looked at Vesper.
Then at Evelyn.
“Good meeting.”
Tala pressed her lips together.
Mila suspected she was fighting the same reaction.
Evelyn looked toward Vesper.
Vesper did not look up.
“Efficient,” Evelyn said.
It was impossible to tell whether that was approval.
Vesper’s stylus resumed moving.
The moment passed, though no one at the table would forget it.
Daigo returned his attention to the map.
“No retaliation for forty-eight hours.”
Kira leaned back. “That gives them forty-eight hours to disappear.”
“It gives us forty-eight hours to identify the correct target.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we decide with evidence instead of paint.”
Evelyn watched Daigo.
“Forty-eight,” she agreed. “No movement against Meridian holdings from our side without my approval.”
Daigo looked down his own side of the table.
Ren nodded.
Reid had already begun marking investigative responsibilities beside the routes.
Mila remained still.
Tala gave one sharp nod.
Vince’s eyes remained on the photograph of the Blue Hour.
Daigo noticed.
“Slader.”
Vince looked up.
“You follow the street movement. Start with the sanitation company, the tow yard, and anyone selling product that should not exist yet.”
Vince nodded once.
“Quietly,” Tala added.
He looked toward her. “I know what quietly means.”
“You own explosives.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It answers several.”
Daigo continued before the argument could grow.
“Reid takes the routes and security footage. Tala takes the money and holding companies. Mila handles the businesses and service contacts. Ren manages communication and increases protection around civilian properties without making them look occupied.”
Across the table, Evelyn assigned her own people.
“Vesper traces the false company, number, and service orders. Adrian handles city contacts. Valentine determines where the uniforms and vehicle markings were sourced. Cecily follows the property and debt connections. Bastien produces every route alteration and subcontractor record by morning.”
Bastien’s expression tightened. “That is several years of—”
“By morning,” Evelyn repeated.
His mouth closed.
“Delphine traces the stolen materials. No private attempt to recover them.”
Delphine looked personally wounded.
“You take all the romance out of business.”
“I am attempting to prevent you from ingesting your own evidence.”
“That happened once.”
Tala looked toward her.
Delphine sighed. “Twice.”
Evelyn’s attention moved to Kira.
“Patience waits.”
Kira stared at her.
“For what?”
“A confirmed target.”
“And until then?”
“You practice the virtue written on your chair.”
Valentine smiled into his hand.
Kira did not look at him.
Evelyn turned toward Julian.
“You review our internal exposure. You do not approach Meridian employees or the Blue Hour staff.”
Julian inclined his head.
“Of course.”
Vince’s eyes remained on him.
The distrust between them required no conversation.
Daigo placed one hand over the route map.
“The Blue Hour stays open.”
Ren looked toward him.
“So do the other public businesses. Closing them tells whoever is watching that we found the pattern.”
“And keeps civilians in a location someone may be observing,” Mila said.
The objection escaped before she could reconsider it.
Daigo looked toward her.
Listening.
Mila continued.
“Keeping it open preserves normal traffic, but only if we secure the building without turning it into a visible post. Whoever used the alley may return to see whether we reacted.”
“They may already be watching from somewhere else,” Reid said.
“Then closing confirms the location matters.”
Vince’s fingers tapped once against the table.
“Leave it open.”
Mila looked toward him.
His expression was flat, but his voice was not careless.
“Change the exterior coverage,” he continued. “Put someone in the building across the lane. Nobody inside the diner. Nobody the staff can see.”
Ren studied him. “You think they’ll come back.”
“I would.”
“Because the first attempt worked?”
“Because they don’t know we saw them.”
Daigo gave one slow nod.
“Do it.”
Reid marked the decision in his folder.
Mila looked at the image still displayed on the screen.
The Blue Hour’s rear alley appeared ordinary beneath the grainy camera light. Wet pavement. Metal dumpster enclosure. White van. Two people dressed like workers.
Nothing in the photograph looked dramatic enough to deserve the room’s attention.
That was what made it dangerous.
Whoever had done this understood that the best place to hide was not somewhere empty.
It was somewhere everyone had already decided belonged to someone else.
Evelyn closed her folder.
“The truce begins now.”
“Forty-eight hours,” Daigo said.
“Forty-eight.”
The agreement settled over the table without signatures.
Nobody there required paper to understand the consequence of breaking it.
For the first time since entering, Evelyn’s gaze moved deliberately toward Vince.
“You collected someone on your way here.”
The room did not change.
Mila did.
Only internally.
Vince looked across the table at Evelyn.
His expression remained dull with exhaustion, but something guarded appeared behind it.
Daigo spoke before she could ask more.
“They are not part of this meeting.”
Evelyn’s gaze shifted to him.
“I did not suggest they were.”
“No,” Daigo said. “You were about to ask who they were.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
“You continue to know me well.”
“I know your habits.”
“So do enemies.”
“Which are you tonight?”
Evelyn rested one gloved hand over the closed folder.
“Under truce?”
“Yes.”
“An inconvenience.”
Ren lowered his gaze, hiding the beginning of a smile.
Evelyn looked toward Vince again but did not repeat the question.
Not yet.
The clock continued its silent movement above the table.
Forty-eight hours had begun.
Downstairs, someone who had only expected a ride home was waiting beneath a meeting that had just placed his workplace at the center of an investigation.
Judging by the way Vince kept glancing toward the locked door, he had not forgotten for a second.