Page 29 of Ruin
"Thank you," she says. Quiet. Genuine.
"Don't thank me. Finish the degree. I need a partner with credentials, not just instincts."
The wordpartnerlands between us like a stone in still water. I said it deliberately. Watched her hear it. Watched the ripple.
"Partner," she repeats.
"That's what this is. That's what you came back for."
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she turns back to her computer. "Then you should know your partner found three more vulnerabilities in the import filings while you were in your meeting."
"Of course you did."
"And your partner is going to need access to the port authority database."
"I'll have it for you by the end of day."
"Good." She's already typing. "Close the door on your way out. I'm working."
I almost laugh. Instead, I pull the door halfway shut and stand in the hallway, listening to the rapid-fire click of her keyboard, and I think about what Vincent said.
Predictable.
He's right. She makes me predictable.
Every enemy I have will look at her and see a pressure point.
A crack in the armor. A way in.
But Vincent is also wrong. Because what he sees as a weakness, I'm starting to see as a force multiplier.
She doesn't just fill the gaps in my operation—she sees gaps I didn't know existed. Only a few days in and she's already rebuilt more infrastructure than my legal team has touched in years.
The question isn't whether she makes me vulnerable.
The question is whether she makes me strong enough that it doesn't matter.
The answerto that question arrives at eleven o’clock that night in the form of a severed hand.
Peter calls me. His voice is the same flat monotone it always is, which means it's bad. Peter's voice only goes flat when he's suppressing something.
"Package at the front door of Cavallo. Delivered by courier. No return address."
"What kind of package?"
"The kind with fingers."
I'm dressed and in the car in four minutes.
Selene is asleep so I don't wake her. Some things she doesn't need to see yet.
Cavallo's front entrance is taped off. Peter and Paul are flanking the door. Lionel is inside, clearing the last of the late-night staff.
On the doorstep, in a black gift box with a red ribbon, is a human hand.
Male. Middle-aged. The ring finger is wearing a signet ring I recognize.
Tomás Vega. One of my dock captains. The one Vincent was going to vet first.
