The trap waselegant in its simplicity.
Victor’s pattern was clear: create instability, let panic build, present himself as the solution. He’d done it at least three times in Haven Shores already—targeting businesses, waiting for them to suffer, then making his move when owners were desperate enough to take any offer.
“We give him a target he can’t resist.” Leo pulled out one final document. “A business that’s already struggling, on a critical intersection, with an owner who seems ready to sell. We make it easy. Tempting. And when he makes his move, we’re waiting.”
“What’s the target?” Hux asked.
“Piprick’s Peculiar Provisions.” Leo tapped the deed. “Piprick Geare’s shop. He’s been struggling since the surge started affecting his inventions. His location is on a secondary intersection—not as powerful as Moonrise Mixology, but valuable enough to attract attention.”
“Piprick’s inventions have a tendency to explode.” Beck pointed out, some of his usual humor returning. “That’s not exactly a selling point.”
“It is for Victor. He doesn’t want functional businesses. He wants the real estate. The ley line access.” Leo shrugged.“I’ve already spoken with Piprick. He’s willing to play along—let word spread that he’s considering selling, make himself look vulnerable. When Victor’s people make contact, we’ll be ready.”
“And if Victor doesn’t take the bait?” Wyatt asked.
“Plan B.” Leo’s smile had teeth. “I let it be known that Castellan Ventures is pulling out of Haven Shores. That I’ve given up, that the town’s too much trouble, that I’m retreating to San Francisco with my tail between my legs. Victor’s ego won’t let him pass up the chance to watch me fail publicly. He’ll overreach.”
“You’d sacrifice your reputation to catch him?”
“My reputation is built on results, not rumors.” Leo met Wyatt’s skeptical gaze steadily. “A few weeks of false retreat is a small price for ending Victor permanently.”
The group exchanged glances. The final barrier between Leo and the local power structure crumbled. He wasn’t an outsider anymore. He was one of them.
“When do we start?” Theo asked.
“Tomorrow. I want Piprick spreading rumors by the weekend. If everything goes according to plan, Victor should make his move within ten days.”
“And if everything doesn’t go according to plan?”
Leo thought of Junie. Of her shop on its critical intersection. Of the grandmother’s recipe book that was still missing, the encoded entries that Victor might be trying to decipher even now.
“Then we improvise,” he said. “But we don’t let him win. Whatever it takes.”
The meeting broke up slowly.
Hux left first, citing obligations. Beck lingered at the bar, nursing a beer and very deliberately not looking at Leo.
Wyatt caught him before he reached the door. No words—just a single page slid across the table. A name Leo didn’t recognize. Payment records from a Sable Acquisitions shell company. And a notation in Wyatt’s precise hand at the bottom: “Already gone. Left town three weeks ago. Doesn’t appear to have known what the information was worth.” Leo stared at it for a moment. Not a spy. Not a traitor—just a struggling shopkeeper who had sold gossip without understanding who was buying it, or why. He set the page down and nodded his thanks.
Theo caughtLeo’s eye and jerked his head toward the back exit. “Walk with me.”
It wasn’t a request.
They stepped into the cool night air, the harbor spread out before them—dark water, distant lights, the constant rhythm of waves against wood. The moon was nearly full, casting silver paths across the bay.
“You smell like her.” Theo’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Like you’ve been swimming in her scent for days.”
Leo didn’t bother denying it. “Yes.”
“You haven’t claimed her.”
“No.”
Theo’s stride didn’t falter as they walked along the dock. “Why not?”
“Because she hasn’t chosen yet.” Leo kept his voice even, though the question scraped against an exposed nerve. “Notfully. The claiming is permanent. It’s not a decision I’m willing to make without her complete, informed consent.”
“And if she never chooses?”
