Page 154 of Priest

Castor nodded slowly. “He hates being replaced more than he hates being hunted.”

That fit too neatly to ignore.

I leaned back in my chair and let the idea settle. “Then we do both. Push the public side and keep the private side sharp. Watch old contacts. Watch dead spaces. Watch anyone desperate enough to sell him shelter.”

“Sadie?” Ledger asked flatly.

The name landed ugly.

Archangel looked to Castor, who rolled his jaw once before answering. “She’ll stay where Joker tells her until she thinks she has a better play. Sadie’s never loyal. She’s opportunistic.”

“That makes her dangerous,” Ink said.

“That makes her predictable,” Castor answered.

I considered that for a second. “Then we stop thinking of her like a lost Old Lady and start thinking of her like an active threat.”

No one argued.

Ghost slid another paper toward me. “One more thing.”

I glanced down. Patrol routes. New names. Movement schedules.

“Blue’s apartment, Lila’s place, Evan’s movements if he ends up back at the hospital, and hospital contact points,” he said. Then his eyes shifted once toward Deacon before coming back to me. “Lila’s situation is more complicated than just her.”

The room stilled in that subtle way it did when something landed before anyone fully understood why.

Deacon turned his head slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ghost didn’t look at him right away. “It means there’s more going on in her life than most of you know.”

Every muscle in Deacon’s body seemed to tighten at once. “Ghost.”

“It’s not my place to say more than that,” Ghost replied evenly. “But it’s relevant. To the move. To protection. To the club.”

Deacon stared at him, all sharp edges and rising heat. “You’re tellin’ me there’s something in her life that affects club protection, and you’re just gonna leave it there?”

Ghost met his stare then. “I’m telling you if I say more, it stops being mine to share and starts being hers. I’m not doing that.” His voice stayed calm, but there was steel under it. “Talk to Lila.”

That bought him a long, hard silence.

Deacon leaned back with visible effort, jaw tight. “Fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Everybody at the table knew it. But for now, it was contained.

Ghost slid the rest of the paper toward me. “You’re gonna want to keep eyes on Castor too.”

Castor made a face. “I hate that you’re right.”

Ghost didn’t smile. “Get used to it.”

Archangel looked at him, then at me. “For the record, he’s not supposed to be working this close to the line.”

Castor leaned back with his hands behind his head like he was trying to prove the opposite of useful. “For the record, I don’t care.”

A knock sounded at the Church door before anyone could answer that.

The prospect posted outside cracked it open. “Prez. Agent Kincaid’s here. Says she needs a word with Archangel. And him,” he added, looking toward Castor with more amusement than was probably wise.