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The second he sees me, terror rips across his features hard enough he almost jerks the chair sideways trying to sit straighter.

“Dagger—”

“What happened?” I ask flatly.

Reaper exhales smoke toward the ceiling before jerking his chin toward the nearby crate. “Saint found his phone on the ground outside.”

My eyes cut to the crate.

The cell sits there with the screen still lit, messages open like someone wanted them seen.

“Looked like it fell out of his pocket,” Reaper adds. “Screen was already unlocked. Texts right there.”

Knox picks it up and tosses it toward me one-handed.

I catch it automatically.

Mikey starts struggling immediately, chair legs scraping hard against the concrete. “That’s not mine.”

I look up slowly.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“It’s my phone, but those texts ain’t mine.” His voice cracks, frantic and messy, blood flashing against his teeth when he talks. “I swear to fucking god, it’s been missing all day. Somebody stole it outta my truck. I looked everywhere for it.”

Reaper snorts under his breath.

“Well thats fucking convenient for you ain’t it, Mikey,”

“I’m fucking serious!” Mikey jerks against the zip ties again, breathing too fast now. “I thought I lost it when I couldn’t find it in my truck. Someone had to of taken it. I didn’t send shit to Dante. I don’t even know Dante.”

Noir says nothing beside me.

Just watches him.

Cold.

Too still.

I glance down at the screen.

Mentions of Blair. Descriptions. Pictures of my apartment building.

Everything looks guilty as fuck.

But Mikey sounds terrified in a way that doesn’t feel practiced, and the longer I stare at him, the less this whole thing doesn’t add up.

Like somebody intentionally built a trail for us to follow.

Noir steps up beside me silently while I scroll farther through the messages. His shoulder brushes mine briefly while he reads over it too, expression unreadable beneath the warehouse lights.

The longer we stare at the screen, the harder Mikey starts shaking.

“I didn’t fucking send those, man. Dagger you gotta believe me. I know I fucked up before, but I haven’t done shit since.”

Nobody answers him.

I keep scrolling upward slower this time, rereading everything while something ugly curls low in my chest.