Page 82 of Vows of Ruin

Her eyes flick between us, nervous, confused, trying to read which one of us is the real threat. Max steps closer, voice low.

“Information leaked from this club’s server, security feeds, supply routes, client lists, access given. All of it was sent out using level-five clearance.”

She blinks fast. “That's the management level.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Elias traced the timestamps. Whoever did it knew what they were doing.”

Max crosses to the computer. The monitor glows pale blue as he scans the file Elias just sent. “Here. Dates and times. Three separate data pulls.”

When he reads them aloud, the manager straightens, a small, nervous laugh slipping out before she can stop it.

I drop into a crouch, eye-level with her. “Do you think our wife being in danger is funny?”

Her eyes go wide. “No, no sir, I swear. I—I love Mrs. Wrenley. She’s always been really nice to me. It’s just—those dates you said, I wasn’t even working, I was out of town. Mrs. Wrenley gave me time off to help my mother when she broke her leg.”

I stand slowly, glance at Max.

He’s already keying the comm. “Elias, pull the time logs for the dates we just sent. I want entry records, keycard scans—everything.”

Elias’ voice crackles back. “On it. Sending now.”

The file flashes across the screen within seconds. Max scrolls, frowning. “Your ID was used to access the system at 00:47 am on the 14th, 01:12 am on the 16th, and 23:08 pm on the 18th.”

The manager shakes her head, tears starting to gather. “That’s not possible. I wasn’t even in the state. I swear I wasn’t.”

“Then who else has access to your keycard or codes?” I ask.

“No one,” she says, voice trembling. “Well—my roommate knows my passcode, but she wouldn’t—she loves it here. She wouldn’t do this.”

Max’s tone sharpens. “Who’s your roommate?”

The girl hesitates, eyes going wide, when I step closer to her. “Tiffany.”

The room goes still. Max and I lock eyes. I don’t need to say it aloud, but the thought runs through both of us like a blade.

Of course. Tiffany. She’s been circling Max for years, jealous, spiteful. The first night Wrenley came into the club with him, Tiffany’s smile cracked in half. Since then, she’s whispered about Wrenley being a whore, about her sleeping with not just us but the others, too. Wrenley always laughed it off, calling it stupid girl jealousy. Said Tiffany would take the hint eventually.

I guess she never did. I nod toward the door. “You can go, Lena. Riot will take your statement.”

She scrambles out, nearly tripping in her rush to get away. The door shuts behind her, leaving only the hum of the computer and the throb of the lights.

I tap the comm in my ear. “Little warrior,” I say quietly, “Stay calm—and get Tiffany up here.”

Across the club, Wrenley looks up from where she’s standing at the bar with Torque and Wrecker. Even from this distance, I can see the flicker of recognition in her eyes. She turns slowly, fully facing the office window. I step into the doorway and meet her gaze, giving one small nod. Her shoulders square. Then she turns, eyes locking on Tiffany.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Wrenley

When our eyes lock, the room narrows to blood and sound. Tiffany’s smile is too bright, too sure, the kind of smile that used to make me laugh. Now it looks like a dare. I’m a hair’s width from losing everything that steadies me, and all I can see is red.

“Wren…” Wrecker starts, hands up like he wants to stop me without touching me. I raise my hand and shake my head slowly, cutting him off. I don’t need him to move for me. I need her.

The words leave my mouth before I can chew them. “You fucking bitch!”

She sees it then, the heat, the rage, the thing in me that used to be a blade, and she bolts. People scatter like I shouted fire. Torque and Wrecker curse, shove off the bar, and the room becomes a clear line for the chase.

I’m faster than she thinks. Faster than jealousy and spite. I cut the distance in three strides, the crowd parts around me in a ripple of boots. She’s halfway to the door when I leap, tackling her hard, bringing us both down onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and spilled drinks.