Chapter 35 #2
Logan joins from his office in Glasgow, his second—Alex—posted at his shoulder as always.
Alex’s shaved head catches the light, tattoos snaking down his skull, hazel eyes sharp and steady, reading me like he already knows my secrets.
Beside him, Logan has his long blonde hair tied back, grey eyes cold and assessing, sleeves rolled just enough to hint at the tattoos crawling up his arms. Both watch me as if trying to pry the words I’m not saying from me.
Clearly, Abbie’s already had her say in both their ears.
The thought still twists in me. Not because I’m angry at him but because it’s a reminder of what I lost. Of how badly I failed Lily when she needed me most.
But this isn’t the moment to let that fester.
For three years, we’ve been circling the same rot, coming at it from different angles, picking at threads, chasing half-truths. We’ve all known what we were hunting, even if we didn’t always say it out loud. We buried our losses, told ourselves we could live with the damage left behind.
Every one of us has something this ring stole, someone it ruined, a line it crossed that can’t be uncrossed, a loved one lost for good.
But now, finally, we’re on the same page. Not just in intent, but in readiness. The time for playing it safe is long gone.
We’ve wasted too much time already gathering evidence, honouring the Table’s code. Jonathan might still be tethered to the old rules, weighed down by what being head of the Points demands, but we aren’t and it’s time for us to stop hesitating.
I straighten, scanning each of their faces, feeling the shift settle into my bones. This isn’t revenge. It’s reckoning. And for the first time in years, it feels possible.
Whatever it costs—whatever ghosts this drags back into the light—we finish this.
Together.
Liam breaks the silence first. “You look like hell. Antonio giving you grief again?”
I drag a hand down my face, debating where to even begin. “He slipped today. Mentioned portfolio meetings, said Vera helps Nico with that side of things.”
Owen swears under his breath. “That’s not his usual wine and cocaine gigs, is it?”
“No,” I say flatly. “If Vera’s involved, she’s likely Jen’s replacement.”
Liam leans in, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got proof?”
“Not yet. But I know where to look.” The disgust bleeds into my voice before I can rein it in. “The way he spoke about it, like those girls were—”
Aidan cuts in quietly. “You don’t need to finish that.”
Silence settles for a beat before I let the words flow, filling Logan, Alex, and Owen in on everything Liam, Aidan, and I have uncovered—Orchis, assets, Lily, the modelling, the patterns, the ghost shipments.
Everything. Jonathan might have my head if he knew, but it’s past time they had the full scope of what we’re working with.
Their sharp, shocked inhales when I drop the wedding news say it all.
Calling off a marriage contract that’s nearly thirty years in the making is no small move.
Even through the screen, I can feel the tension, the unease. We’ve been chasing answers for so long that being this close feels like balancing on the edge of a blade. One misstep, one wrong move, and everything blows up in our faces.
Logan finally speaks, voice low and wary. “If what you’re saying is true, we’re looking at a trafficking line running under the Salvatore import-export business. That makes it international. God knows how many layers are involved. Are you sure you want to stay there?”
Shaking my head, I let out a slow, frustrated breath. “If I pull out now, he’ll smell blood in the water. He’ll disappear, and then we’ll never shut this down. I need a name, a route, something solid we can act on. Until then, I can’t afford to blow my cover.”
“They’re cocky,” Liam inserts, voice like gravel. “Cocky men leave trails, trails we can follow.”
Alex’s jaw ticks. “And if they realise we’re following?”
“We’re already at war,” Logan cuts in. “Better to pick the ground we fight on.”
Owen swipes to another screen. “I can start mapping contacts—flights, agencies, bank transfers. It’s all there if you know how to look. If we could get access to Nico’s computer, it would speed things up, but we should be able to get enough without it.”
I nod, fingers drumming against the tabletop, my ring catching the light. “I can get close to Nico. If Antonio thinks I’m warming up to the family business, he’ll encourage it.”
Liam tilts his head, dark eyes pinning me in place. “And Lily? Do you really think the threat of her becoming one of their targets died when Jen did?”
The weight of her name lands in the room, heavier than any flight log or transfer record. My fingers still, just for a second, before I force them to relax.
“She’s got her summer showcase coming up next week,” I say, forcing the words out evenly.
“After that, Cora will do everything she can to get Lily back in London. Left on her own… she’s vulnerable.
If you ask me, someone should be with her now; Lyon being no man's land doesn't make it safe.
But the last thing I want is for this shit to come between her and her dreams. Not if it doesn't have to.” I glance around the screen, voice low and hard, the words coming out raw.
“No.” Aidan’s arms tighten across his chest, and I know he’s reading between the lines. “You should be staying as far away as possible from her until we’ve got something solid security-wise. She’s safer not seeing you.”
“She’s safer if I’m watching her back,” I snap back before I can stop myself.
Logan exhales a loaded sigh, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Careful, Matt. You sound like a man with something to lose.”
“I’ll handle it. You just worry about handling your end of things,” I fire back. Even though I can see the rebuke in their faces, they don’t press it, and instead, we wrap up the call.
I sit back for a moment, letting the fading voices of the call settle in my ears, but my mind refuses to follow.
Finally, I reach for my phone, thumb hovering over the screen.
The last text she sent stares back at me—a thread connecting us across the miles and the chaos.
I can almost hear her voice in each word, feel the sway of her dress, the curve of her smile.
The world shrinks to that tiny rectangle of glass, and the impossible distance between us presses against my chest.