Chapter 8
The attack came back into the room the moment Grant said the word council.
I had been ambushed outside a Santoro warehouse six weeks earlier. Two vehicles boxed mine at the exit. My driver got us through, but a second impact threw me hard enough to damage my spine and right leg.
I had never believed Lucia arranged it.
I still did not.
Belief was not evidence.
But I had learned enough not to ignore coincidence.
“Who knew my route that night?”
Edwin answered.
“Security. Your driver. Vincent—”
No Vincent here. My security captain was Matteo Leone.
“And family leadership,” Edwin finished.
Lucia looked offended.
“You think I ordered the attack now?”
“No.”
That seemed to surprise her.
I continued. “I think you used it.”
Grant said nothing.
That worried me more.
I turned toward him.
“What do you know?”
He smiled faintly.
“Nothing about the attack.”
“Wrong answer.”
He shrugged.
“I knew somebody had been testing South Harbor security for weeks.”
I stared.
“What?”
Lucia turned toward him. “Grant.”
He ignored her.
“You kept refusing extra men because you thought it made the organization look nervous.”
That was true.
Another weakness of mine.
Not physical.
Pride.
“Who told you about the testing?”
“Lucia.”
The room shifted again.
I looked at her.
“You knew there was increased pressure near the route.”
“It was noise.”
“Did you tell me?”
“You had reports.”
“No.”
Edwin looked at her.
Even he knew.
If the warning had reached me, I would remember.
Lucia’s expression hardened.
“You wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Maybe.”
I leaned forward.
“But you decided for me.”
Silence.
That was the first connection to the attack.
Not orchestration.
Withholding.
She knew the danger had increased and let me walk into it because injury created opportunity.
May you like
The plan had not begun after I was hurt.
The opportunity had.
