Chapter 8 Saint
Saint
The money trail doesn’t point to Italy.
It points to New York.
Trigger drops the file on the table.
“Shell company,” he says. “Clean. Professional.”
He taps the highlighted section.
“But the source account?”
He looks up.
“U.S. private bank.”
Wolf frowns.
“So not Rossi.”
Havoc shakes his head slowly.
“Not Marco.”
The room goes quiet.
I stare down at the paperwork.
The numbers.
The account routing.
Something about it twists my gut.
Then I exhale slowly.
“So Laney’s been running from the wrong devil.”
“Looks like it,” Trigger says.
Wolf leans back against the table.
“Then we’re dealing with someone who wanted this to look like Rossi.”
Someone who wanted a war.
“And someone who knows her,” I add.
Because this wasn’t random.
This wasn’t business.
Someone planned this.
Carefully.
Personally.
They knew where Laney would run.
They knew who she would trust.
They knew exactly how to send killers into my home.
My jaw tightens.
“Find them.”
Trigger nods.
“We will.”
I glance toward the stairs.
Toward the safe room where Laney and Emmy are sleeping.
Whoever planned this thought they were hunting a frightened woman.
They didn’t realize they just walked into Ranger territory.
And now…
We’re hunting them.