Chapter 21 Leverage Season #3
“Who did the alteration?”
“Same process as the Rourke case. Harrow's instructions through Webb, but a different pathologist. Dr Eleanor Hayes. She's still in London. Still working.”
“Why?” My voice came out rougher than I'd intended. “Why did Harrow need James dead?”
“I don't know the specifics. Just that your partner had gotten too close to something, had evidence about cases Harrow had manipulated, and was going to expose the whole network.” Chen looked at me with something that almost passed for pity.
“Harrow couldn't risk it, so he made it look as though the detective had been corrupt all along, that he'd killed himself out of shame. Destroyed his reputation along with his life.”
“And you helped.”
“I processed the paperwork. Same as always.” The shame in his voice was thick. “I didn't ask questions. Didn't want to know. Just did my job and took the money and told myself I was only following orders.”
“How much?” I asked. “How much did my partner's death cost?”
“Thirty-five thousand. Total. For all the suppression work.”
I had to stand. Couldn't sit there looking at Chen's guilty face without wanting to put my fist through it.
“Two lives,” I said quietly. “Both murdered. Both cases manipulated. Both covered up by the same network of people who thought they were too important to face consequences.” I turned back to him. “You're going to testify about all of it. Both cases. Every detail. Every person involved.”
“They'll kill me.”
“Probably. But you'll be remembered as the person who helped bring down Harrow instead of just another bureaucrat who enabled murder for profit.” I moved to the door. “Think about which legacy you prefer.”
“What about you?” Chen asked, his voice small. “What happens to you when this is over?”
“I don't care. As long as Harrow pays for what he did, as long as James and Lily get the truth they deserved.” I opened the door. “That's all that matters.”
I left him sitting there and drove back to Ravenswood with my mind racing, building connections, seeing the full picture of how they'd dismantled both cases, Lily's and James's, with the same machinery, the same people, the same cold and methodical design.
But one piece was still missing. The name. The person Harrow had been protecting, the reason Lily had been targeted and James had gotten too close.
That wasn't in Chen's knowledge, and it wasn't in Webb's. Harrow had kept that detail locked down tight.
Which meant going after Harrow directly. No more intermediaries. No more patience.
I went straight to Dom's quarters and found him there.
“I have it,” I said. “The full chain. Judge Reeves to DA Brennan to Webb to the evidence handler to the pathologist who altered the autopsy.”
“Good.” Dom looked up from his laptop. “Dmitri's been working through the phone data. He's found additional names.”
My phone buzzed.
Handler
Bishop's out. Clean extraction. But Harrow knows you made a trade. Expect retaliation.
My stomach dropped. I deleted the message, but not fast enough.
Dom had already seen my expression change. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Cal—”
“I said it's nothing.”
Then another message came through, this time to Dom's phone. He looked at it and his expression shifted, moving from curious to something cold and flat.
“What is it?” I asked.
He turned the phone toward me. A message from an unknown number, with a screenshot attached. My conversation with the handler, partial but enough to show I'd made a trade and given up security information.
“Explain,” Dom said, his voice deadly quiet.
“It's not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you traded Ravenswood's security protocols for something.” His jaw was tight. “Looks like you made a deal behind my back. So explain.”
I could feel everything crumbling. “My information broker was compromised. Harrow had him. I made a trade to get him out.”
“You traded our security.” Not a question. A statement, flat and dangerous.
“I traded partial information. Incomplete. Enough to seem valuable without actually compromising—”
“You don't know that.” Dom stood, his hands clenched. “You gave them access points. Timing. Information they can use to attack Adrian's home, to get to Viktor, to destroy everything.”
“I made a calculated decision—”
“You made a decision that affects all of us. Without telling me. Without telling Adrian. Without any consideration for anyone except yourself.”
“He saved my life—”
“And you just endangered everyone else's.” Dom's voice rose. “Adrian's. Noah's. Viktor's. Sebastian's. Mine. All of us, because you decided your guilt was more important than our safety.”
The words hit hard. True enough to sting.
“What was I supposed to do?” I demanded. “Let him die?”
“You were supposed to tell me. Tell Adrian. Find a solution that didn't require giving Harrow access to Ravenswood.”
“There wasn't time—”
“That's rubbish, and you know it. You had time to negotiate.
Time to make the trade. You just didn't want to deal with anyone telling you no.” Dom moved closer, anger radiating off him in waves.
“You wanted to make the hard call. Sacrifice whatever you needed to, because that's what you do. You burn everything down and call it necessary.”
“I gave them incomplete information—”
“You don't know that it's not enough!” Dom's voice cracked at the edges. “You're brilliant, Cal, but you're not infallible, and the second you start thinking you are, people die.”
“What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That I made a mistake?”
“I want you to tell me the truth. All of it. What you gave them. What they have. What they can do with it.”
I pulled in a breath. “Security rotation schedules. Partial access codes to the east wing. Guard positions.”
“Christ.” Dom turned away and ran a hand through his hair. “They can map the vulnerabilities. Plan an attack. Get to Viktor, to Sebastian, to Adrian.”
“The codes are incomplete. They won't work without the secondary authentication—”
“You don't know that.” He spun back. “You're guessing. Hoping. But you don't actually know if what you gave them is enough.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“No. You did what you wanted to do. What made you feel less guilty. What let you save one person at the cost of everyone else.” Dom's expression was raw, furious, and underneath the fury something that looked like grief. “And you lied to me. Looked me in the eye and lied.”
“I didn't lie—”
“You said it was nothing. Just now, when I asked about the message. You lied.”
“I was protecting operational security,” I said, and it sounded weak even to me.
“You were protecting yourself.” Dom stepped closer. “Because you knew I'd be furious. Knew I'd tell you this was reckless. Knew I'd stop you if I could. So you did it anyway and hoped I'd never find out.”
“Yes.” The admission tasted like ash. “Yes, I did. Because I couldn't let him die, couldn't stand there and do nothing while Harrow tortured him for information. So I made the trade, and I'd make it again.”
“Then we have a problem.”
“We've always had a problem.” My voice went cold. “You want someone who asks permission. Who puts the mission first. That's not me. It never has been.”
“I want someone who doesn't lie to me.” Dom's hands came up and gripped my shoulders hard enough to hurt. “That's it. That's the bar. And you just failed to clear it.”
“Then let go.” I tried to pull away. He didn't let me. “Let go, Dom.”
“No.”
“Let. Go.”
“Make me.”
We stared at each other, his grip iron, his expression furious and hurt and full of something else I couldn't name and wasn't ready to.
“I'm angry,” he said finally. “I'm furious. But I'm not done. Not walking away. Not yet.”
“You should.”
“Probably. But I'm not.” His grip loosened slightly. “So here's what happens next. You tell Adrian what you did—all of it—and then we figure out how to fix it.”
“There's nothing to fix—”
“Then we verify that. We make sure what you gave them isn't enough to use, and if it is, we prepare.” His voice hardened. “But you don't make another move without telling me. Understand?”
“I can't promise that.”
“Then try.” His forehead pressed against mine. “Because if you lie to me again, if you make another trade behind my back, if you endanger the people I love because you think your guilt matters more than their lives, we're done. Completely. No second chances.”
The ultimatum was clear. Final.
“Understood,” I said quietly.