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“Aye. And I’m the patron saint of restraint.”

“You’re a thug in an expensive suit.”

“Maybe. But I’m not stupid.” I tapped the folder again. “Hayes. Farris. Elysian. Leon Brands. Whitaker. Delgado. You walked into Xyst, throwing legal daggers at men who know how to throw them back. Trust me, our aim is better, and now we have more targets.”

Her lips parted.

There it was again.

The smallest break in the mask.

I let that sit for a moment, then smiled wider. “And the liquor-license suspension you strutted in with? Already handled. Cleared. Gone. Evaporated into thin air before you had your morning coffee.”

The color drained from her face.

“Now you have bigger problems than playing pretty attack dog for cartel vermin.” I chuckled, low and mean, because she needed to hear exactly where she stood. “You’re one wrong move from landing on The Syndicate’s hit list, Isabella. And you’re smart enough to know what happens to people who cross The Syndicate in this city.”

She froze.

“Our city,” I added. “Not MS-13, Salvadoran rats who sell girls and murder for sport. Not corrupt politicians taking dirty money to bend the system for rich men who hide behind paperwork.”

For the first time, she didn’t have an answer.

Her gaze moved from the door to the broken phone, then to the narrow window before landing back on me. This time, the movement wasn’t polished. It was fast. Nervous. Her mind worked behind those eyes, measuring the room, the damage, me, and whatever tactic might keep her breathing. She understood there was no way out and no one was coming to save her.

Good.

I wanted her to be intimidated.

At least, I thought I did.

But the fear looking back at me now wasn’t the controlled flash she’d shown before. This was real enough to make her reassess. Enough to make her rethink the ground she was standing on.

Then she changed.

One breath, she was furious, with her chin high and fire in her eyes. The next, her shoulders slumped, she chewed on her bottom lip, and her fingers tapped against her sleeve, betraying the nerves her face no longer tried to hide.

The transformation was so smooth it pissed me off.

Because I wasn’t sure if it was real.

“I get it,” she said quietly.

The softness in her voice didn’t belong in the same mouth that had called Xyst a dive.

I didn’t move.

She came around the desk slowly, as if sudden movements might get her killed. She stopped in front of it, next to me, but far enough to keep some distance between us. Then she leaned back against the edge, her palms gripping the wood on either side of her hips.

“You’re angry,” she said. “And you have reason to be.”

“Generous of you.”

“I’m serious.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

The welling tears caught me off guard.