Page 100

Aggressive expansion into West Ashford suggests an imminent territorial grab.

The Vartanian family head is pushing for confrontation rather than negotiation.

My mouth goes dry as I scan the pages. The phrasing is too similar to be a coincidence, the tactical assessments too aligned with my family’s internal discussions to have come from outside sources.

“I don’t understand. My family had no interest in the Blue Note until our data fell into your hands,” I say, the words scraping my throat. “My original mission was to come here and verify you hadn’t kept a copy and to confirm you didn’t hold a grudge.”

I cast Ash an apologetic look. “Sorry about the police scaring you and your sister.”

“Yeah, that was pretty fucked up,” he says.

I grimace and focus on the paper in my hand. “We didn’t think the Blue Note was an actual threat until we received a tip similar to this one, about the Blue Note planning to expand into our business. Someone’s been feeding both sides the same information.”

“Not the same,” Ghost corrects. “To your family, we’re the aggressors. To us, you’re the threat.”

He pulls out a third report, this one with a map attached. “Then there’s this.”

I reach for the map, a fine tremor shaking my hand. The locations marked in red match the first-phase targets in my family’s plan almost exactly. “This isn’t possible. Our sources are⁠—”

“Compromised,” Rowan says flatly. “Or manufactured. Either way, someone’s been playing us against each other.”

“Who?” I manage. “Who would do this?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Rowan leans forward. “You understand your family’s operation better than anyone. Who would have access to this level of intelligence? Who would benefit from a war between the Vartanians and Blue Note?”

A name forms on my lips, but I can’t bring myself to say it. Not yet. Not without being sure.

“These reports,” I say instead, pointing to the dates. “They follow a pattern.”

“Three distinct phases,” Ghost agrees. “Initial contact to establish credibility. Escalation to trigger a response. And then...” He pulls out the final page, a single paragraph with several sections underlined in red. “The final push.”

I skim it, my pulse jumping as I recognize the phrasing. “This is from the council meeting. Word for word.”

“We received ours the same day,” Rowan confirms. “The timing was...convenient.”

Too convenient. As if someone knew when the family would be gathered, at what point tensions would be highest, and what push would send us over the edge.

“When did your first report arrive?” I ask, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat.

“At the beginning of January,” Ghost answers without hesitation. “It was a tip about weapons moving through the east dock. We checked it out as part of our standard procedure, but found nothing. Another came a week later, same source, different location. Again, nothing. But the third...”

“Was verified,” Rowan finishes. “Or seemed to be. Enough that we couldn’t ignore it.”

My stomach churns as the pattern emerges. Someone had been laying groundwork for months, building credibility with small, verifiable details before introducing the larger manipulations. The same technique intelligence agencies use to turn assets. Give them enough truth to establish trust, then slip in the lies when it counts.

“We’ve been mapping the timeline,” Ghost continues, pulling out a sheet covered in dates and annotations. “Every report, every tip, every ‘verified’ sighting. They all follow the same pattern of escalation, response, and counter-escalation. Never quite enough to trigger open conflict, but always pushing us closer to the edge.”

I scan the document, my heart sinking as I recognize key dates. The council meeting where my uncle first raised concerns about Blue Note.

“But you held back,” I say, the realization dawning. “You didn’t retaliate.”

Rowan’s lips quirk without humor. “Not from lack of interest. Half the crew wanted blood after the third report. But the reports didn’t add up.” He taps one of the dates. “The timing was too perfect. The intelligence too...convenient.”

“So you waited,” I say, rolling the information over in my mind.

“We did.” Rowan’s lips flatten into a thin line. “We don’t want a war with your family. So when we got a tip that they were sending in a spy...” He spreads his hands out. “We gave you opportunities to verify we weren’t a threat.”

I rear back. “You got a tip?” I glare up at Orien. “What happened to you being so good at recognizing me because of my gun callouses? You cheated.”