Page 173 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

Duke takes the document and scans it. His brow furrows. “Grange & Holloway?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Tessa’s firm.”

“I know.”

Duke reads another page, then another, slower now. “You think she’s involved?”

“I think her firm keeps appearing in structures tied to entities we already know are suspicious.” I rub at my temple. “Which isn’t proof of anything except proximity.”

“But your gut hates it.”

“Yes.”

That earns me a long look. Because Duke knows me well enough now to understand I don’t jump to conclusions.

I hate conclusions. Conclusions require certainty and certainty gets people hurt when you’re wrong.

“What does Cody think?” he asks.

“I haven’t shown him all of this yet.”

“Why not?”

I stare down at the papers. “Because accusing the ranch attorney of helping build shell pathways tied to financial manipulation feels like a thing I’d like slightly more proof for first.”

“Reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

“But still terrifying.”

“Also yes.”

Duke exhales slowly and sets the paperwork down. “Jeez.”

Yeah. Exactly.

The silence stretches another moment before he reaches out and brushes a loose strand of blue hair behind my ear.

The gesture’s soft enough to hurt a little.

“You okay?” he asks.

The honest answer? Not remotely.

Because the deeper this goes, the uglier the shape becomes. And underneath all of it, the growing realization that somebody very close to Ironwood might’ve helped build this architecture intentionally.

“I’m tired,” I admit.

Duke’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“I feel like every time we pull one thread, the whole thing spreads wider instead of narrowing.”

“That’s because rich people turn corruption into group projects.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “You say that like you aren’t one of them.”