Page 80 of Vows of Ruin

“Then start now.” Liam snaps.

The edge in his voice stills the room. Everyone nods, no argument. Elias turns back to the monitor, muttering under his breath as he runs another trace. Margot types something beside him, her expression tightening.

“Wait,” she says softly. “There’s another ping, a relay hub just went live in the west quarter.”

Elias frowns. “That sector’s mostly civilian. What’s there that—” He stops. His eyes meet mine, then land on Max. “The Black Crown.”

The name hangs heavy in the air. Max goes still. Every trace of color drains from his face.

Liam notices it too. “Max?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just stares at the screen like it’s already confirmed what he's afraid of. He stands, the chair scraping hard against the floor.

“We vet all of them,” he says, voice low but steady. “Every bartender, every runner, every contact tied to the club. If this leak came from The Black Crown, it needs to be handled today.”

Elias nods, finger already flying over the keyboard again. “I’ll start pulling names.”

Max pushes his hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath that I can’t catch.

Liam turns to me. “Do you trust the staff?”

“I did,” I say quietly. “Until five minutes ago.”

Hugo is now pacing the room, sensing the shift in tension; he doesn’t like it any more than the rest of us. The war room hums with renewed energy, not relief, not direction, just the first tremor of the next storm. Sebastian had reached them once. He’d find a way to do it again. This time he’s doing it from inside our walls.

Chapter Thrity-Two

Reaper

The Black Crown doesn’t sound like itself tonight. No bass line, no laughter bleeding through the walls, just the electric buzz of silence stretched too thin. Glasses sit untouched. The bar lights are too bright.

Every employee we have is downstairs. They’re seated in neat, various rows along tables that flank the dance floor, eyes darting between Torque and Wrecker like someone might start reading out names. No one speaks above a whisper.

From the catwalk above, I can see everything, the tremor in someone’s leg, the twitch of a jaw, the way sweat glints under a throat that’s swallowing too often. Riot’s leaning on the railing opposite me, arms crossed, scanning faces for micro-tells. “Keep watching,” I tell him, and head into the office to find Wrenley and Max.

Upstairs, the office smells like whiskey and paper. Elias and Margot left us the files ten minutes ago. Background checks, payment records, and shift schedules. All the data we need to start carving through to the truth. It’s stacked across the desk like evidence waiting for a verdict.

Wrenley’s leaning over the layout, her hair still damp from the shower, a thin line between her brows that never quite goes away anymore. Max stands beside her, hands braced on the table, jaw tight enough to crack.

“They’re scared,” Wrenley says, scanning the floor plan. “Half of them have no idea why they’re here.”

“Good,” I tell her. “Fear shakes loose the truth faster than a threat.”

She shoots me a look that isn’t quite reproach. “And if one of them is the leak?”

“We deal with it.”

Max glances toward the glass that overlooks the dance floor. “Torque texted, says a few are already cracking under the silence. If someone’s hiding something, Riot will spot it.”

I flip through the last of the files, stopping on a column of transaction dates. “He’d better. Sebastian was inside our network long enough to plant a seed. Whoever helped him didn’t do it by accident.”

Down below, a glass breaks. Heads snap toward the sound, just a waitress bumping a tray, but the ripple of tension that follows tells me what I need to know. Every person in this room is walking on a knife's edge.

Margot's voice echoes faintly through the comm in our ears.

“We’ve traced one of the data trails to the club’s payroll server. It’s been wiped, but not clean. There’s residue from an external account. I’m sending the location now.”

I glance at the computer screen. Server 5 – Manager’s Office.