Page 88 of Brutal
Turn away from him.
Focus.
That’s what matters.
Not Samson. Not what just happened. Not the reason he was here.
And not the reason I didn’t stop him.
I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and then return to my living area where I lock the front door and then flip open my laptop. The screen lights up to the same notes I left open last night.
The marina.
The contractor.
The network of companies that doesn’t make sense until you stop treating it like coincidence.
I hover my fingers over the keys.
Samson didn’t answer me. But he didn’t deny it.
I replay it in my head.
You don’t want that answer.
Not I didn’t do it.
Not you’re wrong.
Not even it’s not what you think.
Just—
You don’t want that answer.
I begin to type, to pull threads together. The marina redevelopment. The contractor tied to high-end security installations. Shell entities layered just deep enough to blur ownership without hiding it completely.
It can’t be random. It can’t be. It was all deliberate.
Which means Halstead wasn’t in the wrong place.
He was in the right place at the wrong time.
I lean back slightly, staring at the screen.
The bartender said it escalated too fast. Like it was already going to happen.
My pulse steadies as the pieces start to align. This didn’t start when Halstead arrived. It didn’t start when anyone saw him. It was already in motion. And whatever he was looking at mattered.
It mattered enough to get him killed.
That changes everything.
Because if that’s true, then Halstead didn’t cause it. He interrupted it.
I go still.
And if he interrupted it…
