Silence settles, heavy and focused.
“And that goes where?” Sin asks.
“Everywhere that matters.” Ghost taps a key, and new names appear on the screen. “Nevada Gaming Control Board. They’ve been chasing Alliance casino laundering for three years and hitting dead ends because of the shell structure. That structure is no longer theoretical. It’s mapped.”
Koa lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”
“IRS Criminal Investigation Division,” Ghost continues, unbothered. “Because tax evasion always gets more traction than moral outrage. FBI financial crimes unit here in Vegas. They’ve got overlapping jurisdiction once the interstate transfer patterns are clear.”
Deek shifts in his chair. “And the press?”
Ghost’s half-smile deepens by a fraction. “Two journalists. One national, one regional. Both are already circling Alliance development influence in Nevada. They receive the same file at the same time.”
“Simultaneously?” Deek asks.
“Simultaneously,” Ghost confirms. “Scheduled auto-transmission. Midnight tonight… Sunday. Which means the story lands before anyone with Alliance connections is fully back at their desks Monday morning.”
“So, they can’t bury it,” Nitro says.
“They can try,” Ghost replies. “They just can’t do it quietly. One agency, you stall. Four agencies and two journalists, all holding identical documentation? That becomes momentum. Momentum becomes headlines. Headlines become subpoenas.”
Sin studies the screen for a long moment, then looks back at Ghost. “And the encryption?”
“Unbreakable in any timeframe that helps them,” Ghost says. “Time-release key embedded in the transmission sequence. Once it sends, it opens. Before that, it’s useless noise.”
I feel the room shift. The understanding is settling in—the scale of it.
“They won’t be able to run from all of it at once,” Ghost adds, almost conversational. “The architecture of this only works because it overwhelms their ability to control the narrative.”
I nod once. “And the auto-send.”
Ghost finally looks directly at me. “Only I can stop it,” Ghost confirms. “I have until eleven fifty-five. After that, it goes whether anyone interferes or not.”
Nitro looks at me. “And if the Alliance tries something between now and midnight?”
“That’s the other part,” I say. I pause to let the weight of what comes next settle properly. “We’re going to meet with them.”
The room reacts, not loudly, but with the shift of men recalibrating. Koa’s jaw tightens. Deek looks up sharply with brows drawn. Bear is completely still, which for Bear means he’s listening with everything he has.
“Not to negotiate,” I say, and continue before anyone can speak. “To make sure they understandexactlywhat’s coming. And why.”
Bear, who has been reserved this entire time, clears his throat. “When?”
“Tonight,” I say. “Before the file goes out. I want them to know it’s coming. I want them to know they can’t stop it. And I want them to understand…” I flip the chip once and catch it without looking, “… what they made possible when they put their hands on Jonas McClane’s records.”
Nitro leans forward and slams his fist on the table.
Not a vote, just an answer.
One by one, around the table, the rest of my brothers do the same.
***
The restaurant is on the eastern edge of the Strip, the kind of place that has been there long enough to have outlasted three different waves of Vegas reinvention and carries the architectural evidence of all of them.
Neutral ground.
Public enough that nothing stupid can happen. Private enough, in the booth I requested, that nothing said will travel.
