Page 92 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

Chris works through Snowpeak’s network first, quiet inquiries among merchants who move goods along the coast, the kind of men who notice when cargo doesn’t match what’s declared.

Wayne leans on Forestguard’s rougher connections, tavern owners and dockhands who hear things nobody “official” ever does.

I take Trident’s fishermen, men who spend enough hours on the water to notice ships that don’t behave the way honest traders do.

It takes six days before the pieces start lining up.

“There’s a location,” Chris says, dropping a folded map onto the table in front of us. “South end of the docks. Officially registered as a grain store. Nobody’s seen actual grain go in or out of it in months.”

“My contact says a ship docks there every ten days, always at night, always unloaded fast.” Wayne taps a spot near the water. “Never the same crew twice.”

I add what I’ve learned. “Fishermen say the same ship changes its name every few trips. Same hull, though. Same damage along the port side.”

We lay it all out for Charlize that evening, every scrap we’ve gathered.

She studies it longer than any of us expect, quiet and careful.

“We can’t just storm it,” she says finally. “If there’s a network above these men, hitting the grainhouse alone might only catch the lowest rung. Whoever’s really running this slips away and starts again somewhere else.”

“She’s right,” I say, completely agreeing with her. They could go to another region and start again. We should also warn the other Kings of such things possibly happening in their regions.

Chris strokes his jaw. “What do you suggest?”

“Watch it first,” Charlize says, heading over to a table.

We follow.

She spreads the map across the surface. “Confirm the pattern before we move—when the ship comes, who unloads it, whether anyone from outside the grainhouse comes to collect anything.”

She traces a finger along the map. “Then, when we do move, we take it during a delivery. Ship and grainhouse both, at once. That way nothing slips out the back while we’re busy with the front.”

Wayne grins, impressed despite himself. “That’s better than anything the three of us came up with on our own.”

Her lips curl into a smile.

“However, I couldn’t help noticing you kept saying ‘we’,” he adds. “You’re not implying what I think you’re implying, are you?” His eyes are locked on her.

“Depends,” she says, refusing to look away from him. “What do you think I’m implying?”

“I think you’re implying that you’re part of the team that’ll take down those swindlers.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Am I not?”

“No, you are absolutely not!”

“What?” She frowns. “This whole thing is my idea, and you’re just gonna kick me off the operation?”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he says. “Nobody’s kicking you off anything—we just think it’ll be best for you to sit this one out, that’s all.”

“We?” Her brows arch, her gaze shifting across our faces. “Wait, you all decided that I won’t be coming along?”

Silence.

I break it. “Wayne is right, Charlize. It’s too dangerous.”

She lets out a dismissive scoff, her scowl deepening. “What’s the use of all that training if I can’t be in the middle of the action?” Her voice rises a bit higher than normal.

“This is not a game, Charlize,” Chris says. “These people are dangerous—equipped with weapons, and you are…”