Chapter 8
We found the older devices before midnight.
Two inside retired helmets.
One inside a saddle compartment.
Three in equipment cases.
Most inactive.
Some never discovered because Marcus rotated them whenever he became suspicious.
No elaborate spy network.
Just privileged access and nobody imagining family gear needed searching.
That was the lesson.
The most dangerous breach often looks domestic.
Rafe brought me one receiver log.
A phrase appeared repeatedly.
RED LEDGER.
Marcus had flagged it every time someone said either word within range.
“What is the red ledger?” I asked.
Grant looked at Marcus.
Marcus smiled.
“Nothing.”
Leo spoke.
“My dad had a red notebook.”
Everyone turned.
He remembered Adrian carrying it after meetings.
Leather.
Dark red.
Leo used to draw horses on the last page.
My chest tightened.
“Where is it?”
He shook his head.
“Gone after Dad died.”
Marcus said:
“Probably burned.”
Grant looked away.
Another tell.
I caught it.
“Where?”
Grant remained silent.
Then Lily woke in the clinic.
She heard us arguing and wandered toward me in socks.
I lifted her.
She touched my neck.
“Daddy mad?”
“Yes.”
“At boot?”
“Partly.”
She considered.
Then:
“Uncle Marcus said red box bad.”
Everything stopped.
“What red box?”
She pointed vaguely toward the stables.
Children do not provide maps.
But she remembered one thing.
“Hay room.”
Marcus’s face emptied.
I handed Lily to Leo.
“Stay with her.”
Then looked at Rafe.
“Old hay storage.”
We found the box behind a false panel in a tack room that had been closed since Adrian died.
Red metal.
Rusting.
Inside:
The ledger.
My brother’s handwriting.
Payments.
Names.
Dates.
Circle members.
And one sealed envelope.
DANTE.
I opened it.
Brother,
If you’re reading this, either I finally convinced you Marcus is dangerous, or he made sure I couldn’t.
My breathing stopped.
Adrian knew.
Not that he would die.
That Marcus was escalating.
At the bottom:
If anything happens to me, protect Leo from anyone who teaches him love has to be earned by usefulness.
May you like
I looked toward the clinic.
Marcus had spent six years doing exactly that.
