"Why would it? You trusted the mission."
"I trusted that Rose's death could mean something." The words come out flat. "That I was stopping the people who destroyed her."
At the console, Vanessa's typing slows. Her shoulders draw forward. Head tilting.
Behind the mirror, Damian continues. No wasted movement. No unnecessary words.
"Whoever they are, they know tradecraft." Victoria's voice still carries that void, but she is reaching for professional assessment like a lifeline. "Military. Intelligence. Someone with operational experience."
"Or hired someone who does."
"Maybe." She meets Damian's eyes. "But the level of detail—knowing which judges to target, when, how to time it with their verdicts—that's not just hired help. That's someone with serious access."
Damian shifts. Weight distribution. New angle.
"They were scared."
His attention sharpens.
"Of what?"
"I don't know. But three weeks ago, the messages changed." Victoria's hands still. "Before, they were specific. Detailed.Patient. Then suddenly—urgency. Pressure. They wanted Castellano dead faster than the others."
Angelina's whole body goes still. I feel it through our joined hands—every muscle locking.
"Why?" Damian asks.
"They wouldn't say. Just kept pushing, moving the timeline up, increasing the dosage, make it happen now." Victoria's voice drops. "I asked why. They said she'd become a liability. That she knew something that made her dangerous."
My hand finds Angelina's again. Her fingers are ice cold.
Three weeks. Right when I started the protection detail. Right when Angelina's security increased.
"What pieces?"
"I don't know." Victoria looks straight at the mirror now. "But whoever my handler is, they're more afraid of what Judge Castellano might figure out than they are of getting caught killing her."
"Anything else about the handler? Frustrations, complaints?"
Victoria thinks. "They were careful. Professional. But... there was frustration sometimes. About operations being disrupted."
"Disrupted how?"
"I don't know specifics. Just that shipments were getting intercepted. Girls being pulled out before they could be moved." She shrugs. "Handler thought it was one of the rescue networks. Said some American was causing problems—Asia, then Eastern Europe. They couldn't pin him down."
Kade's voice cuts through the speakers—he has moved to the intercom. "What kind of problems?"
Victoria looks toward the mirror. "I don't know. But it had been going on for months. He said someone was 'getting in the way of the pipeline.'"
Kade releases the intercom. His expression has not changed, but I catch it—loss. Hope. The flicker he will not name. In my peripheral vision, Damian goes very still.
Some American.Could be anyone. Could be one of Maya's people. Could be nothing.
Could be Roman.
Damian moves on. Payment timing. Communication windows. Target assignment protocols.
On the monitor, Damian rises from his chair. Says something to Victoria—too quiet for the speakers to catch. Then he is through the interrogation room door, leaving her alone with her cuffed hands and her sister's ghost.