“Look at the sender,” I say, my voice hollow.
Rowan does. Then he clicks to expand it, and a name unfolds across the monitor.
Clean letters.
Simple font.
Deceit dressed in corporate politeness.
I stop breathing.
I freeze so completely that the room seems to tilt.
Ronan swears under his breath.
Rowan leans back like someone just stabbed him in the spine.
I whisper a curse, though the word feels like a punch.
Emerson exhaled like he’s been holding his breath through the entire scroll. “Horizon Logistics,” he says.
The shell company.
The ghost account.
The thing that was never in any of their books, never in any of their contracts, never in any of the digital trails I burned to ash.
The unseen artery pumping money into the people who burned me in hell.
My hands curl into fists so tight my nails cut into my palms.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
They built an entire shadow empire under our noses.
One we never knew existed.
One they hid even from me.
One they’ve used to stay invisible while they hunt us and hold Kimber somewhere we cannot find.
The fury inside me climbs high, hot, blinding.
“They made sure no one would find it,” I whisper, rage scraping my throat raw. “They buried this deep so I couldn’t destroy it along with everything else.”
Ronan’s tattoos flex over his biceps as he grips the edge of the desk.
Rowan’s jaw cracks with tension.
Emerson’s entire body trembles like a bomb waiting for a spark.
We stare at the screen.
Horizon Logistics stares back.
A quiet monster.