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The rain had stopped by the time we got to the vehicles. The men were putting the documents we’d found into the trunk while Trevor stood next to me, watching the warehouse disappear into the darkness.

“You could have burned the warehouse tonight. It would have been easier, and nobody would have cared,” Trevor said.

I ignored him, not in the mood for this line of conversation, but my silence seemed to fuel him.

“They would care about the men, the documents, and whatever they came for, but they wouldn’t care if the place burned down afterward.”

I opened the driver’s-side door of the vehicle.

“Why do you always avoid talking about fires?” Trevor said.

“I always talk about destruction. But you don’t hurt women and children. Those are the orders you have,” I said.

Trevor looked at me for a moment before leaning against the SUV. “You’ve been giving the orders for years now.”

“Then you should know them by now, Trevor.”

“I do know them, which is why I’m asking why you give them.”

I looked at Trevor until his face became more serious. “You’re asking questions you know I won’t answer. Find another hobby.”

Trevor laughed quietly, but he didn’t move away. He’d worked with me for a long time, so he knew when I wanted to drop a subject, and he also knew that I rarely explained my rules.

But Trevor also knew that there was one thing different about these orders. They’d started fifteen years ago, after a night that had changed the way I looked at fire, violence, and innocent people caught in the middle of someone else’s war.

He’d never asked me about it when the others were around. Tonight, however, he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Something happened years ago, didn’t it?”

I stared at the warehouse instead of answering him. Fifteen years ago, there’d been another building, another operation on another night, when men had gone in looking for someone and innocent people had been caught in the crossfire.

I still remembered the smoke filling the room, and the child, too. She’d been hiding inside a closet, terrified and silent while the house burned around her. I’d opened that door expecting to find whatever the men had been looking for. Instead, I’d found a little girl staring back at me.

I could still remember her eyes. She’d been too young to understand what was happening. She only knew that men with guns had entered her home and that the people she trusted were gone.

I had no reason to remember the details after all these years, but I remembered them anyway. I’d pulled her out, carried her through the smoke, and taken her away from the house before leaving her. I’d never forgotten the way she looked at me.

There were things a man could bury. Names, faces, even bodies. Guilt was different. Guilt had a way of surviving everything.

“Fine, I’ll leave it alone for now,” Trevor said.

He walked away from the car. I knew Trevor would leave the subject alone for now, but he also noticed the pattern of my rules. My rules weren’t about appearances or being kind. My rules came from the night I’d spent fifteen years trying to forget.

I had no intention of telling Trevor what had happened that night. Some things were better left alone.

I got into the SUV and started the engine. We got to the O’Connor base a few minutes later. The streets were still wet from the rain, and the streetlights made everything glow. Trevor followed me inside, and we went straight to the inner room and spread the papers we’d found that night all over the big table. I took off my coat and looked at the folders.

“Now tell me what you meant about the Russians,” I said.

Trevor pulled out a chair and sat down. “They’ve been acting differently for a few weeks. Sokolov’s people have been talking to some of our friends, asking questions about some old deals.”

“Have they threatened anyone?” I asked.

“No, not yet,” Trevor said. “They’re trying to figure out who’s still on our side and what those people know. There’s something else, too. Someone is asking questions about the money records. The ones from the 2000s.”

I didn’t say anything. Those records were old. They didn’t matter to anyone who knew how the syndicate worked. Some of the businesses connected to them didn’t exist anymore. Most of the accounts were closed a while ago, and many of the people involved were either dead or gone.

Trevor leaned back in his chair. “There are whispers that other factions are becoming active, too,” he said. “Not just Sokolov. People are talking to each other. Old alliances are being tested. Nobody knows exactly why yet.”