Page 197 of Sins of Innocence

Kenneth licks cracked lips. "You hear him? Outsiders. That's what Fitzgerald's doing to this family. Elevating outsiders while Shaughnessy blood gets pushed aside." His gaze swings toward Brogan. "You let him do this."

Still no one speaks. Kenneth mistakes their silence for uncertainty.

"This is all lies. Fake recordings. AI generated images. Tortured men saying whatever they had to say to make it stop." He points at Mick with his bound hands. "He's covering his own sins."

A few men shift in their seats.

Kenneth takes it as support for his garbage accusations. "They even frightened my wife into turning against me."

If a single man in this room believes Allison was frightened into lying, he's lacking too many brain cells to tie his own boots.

The contempt on her face could have powered Manhattan.

A captain stands from halfway back in the room. "I've got something to say."

Brogan nods once.

The captain squares his shoulders. "Confessions taken under chemicals and interrogation shouldn't decide a death sentence."

Another man stands before Brogan answers.

"Those boys he sent away are our sons." His voice carries through the gym. "The future of this mob." He points toward me. "He can claim that girl as his own, but we all know her real dad was a traitor."

"Let's discuss that later," I say to him, voice cold.

He blanches and sits down while I make plans to pay him an educational visit.

Near the back, another soldier stands. I recognize him. One of the men Noah plays basketball with. The one who Noah said talked smack about Mick. "Shaughnessy blood should lead the Shaughnessy mob."

He's already on our watchlist for traitors, but I mentally shift him up to active threat. His willingness to express that shit here, in the face of what he just heard, says he's deep in his own delusion about this mob and who should run it.

Brogan rises and raises his hand for silence. "Enough. I didn't want to believe my own flesh and blood could become a flesh peddler and a rat." He looks at Kenneth. "But that's exactly what kind of lowlife Kenneth Shaughnessy…" Brogan turns and spits. "Turned out to be."

The words echo silently through the gym as Brogan sweeps his gaze across the room. "You either trust me and the leaders I have chosen..." He lets the sentence hang. "...or you don't."

Another pause. This one a little longer. "If you don't, speak now."

Nothing. Not a cough. Not a chair scraping.

Every man here understands exactly what Brogan has offered them. The chance to sign their own death warrant.

The Shaughnessy Mob may have been instrumental in establishing labor unions in New York. They might back the politicians of the people.

But the mob is not a democracy.

And we all know it.

Brogan nods once and sits.

Kara stands and steps around the table. "The confession exists in Kenneth's own voice." She gestures toward the screen. "The financial records came from Kenneth's own companies." She looks around the room, meeting the eyes of soldiers, captains and lieutenants alike. "If anyone believes numbers lie, they're welcome to review every page."

She turns toward the captain who questioned the exile. "You said those boys are someone's sons."

A nod.

"They are. And every one of those boys has a father in this organization."

Another nod.