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True, we have access to all citizens’ confessions. But if there’s nothing worth flagging, they remain anonymous, and we discard them.

“Nothing,” Brady confirms, his eyes on his screen as he keeps typing. “We don’t know how the intel’s getting out. Only that it is.”

I nod grimly. The longer this mole issue continues, the greater the risk to all of us. My men, my family. Brioni. The names on that tablet represent only a fraction of the people I’m responsible for. Our entire community relies on protection from our family, from Da.

And now, from me.

I sigh with the weight of everything on my shoulders. A part of me wants to slump onto the table, to call it a day. But when my phone dings, my heart soars.

Brioni: Hey, if you’re free later, can you please meet me at the range? If not, no worries! I know you’re busy.

It’s only a text, but it’s the most words she’s said to me in two days.

Me: Be right there.

My heartbeat thuds against my ribcage. She wants me there. After days of keeping me away from the range, of avoiding me as much as she could, she wants me with her. And given what I witnessed the other night, I can’t help but think it’s an invitation. I don’t know if we shouldn’t still applies.

There’s only one way to find out.

I all but leap out of my chair, giving Brady no explanation.

“There’s one more thing,” he says, and I growl at him, impatient.

“Make it quick.”

“Seven’s right-hand man approached me. He⁠—”

“What?” I grip the back of my chair, ready to snap the wood with my bare hands. “Seven approached you?” Of course that fucker insulted my authority.

“His man did,” Brady says. “Right hand to right hand. It makes sense, given the delicacy of the situation. They want a truce.”

I realize my jaw’s hanging open, and I snap it shut.

“Bullshit,” I snarl through gritted teeth.

“I thought so too, but the man came in person earlier this afternoon. He’s telling the truth.”

Brady, despite being unable to suss out our mole, excels at reading people face to face. He could fleece every underground poker player in this town if he wanted to.

“They’ve lost six times the number of men that we have recently,” he explains. “On the surface, a truce is in their favor.”

I tighten my grip on the unyielding wood, staring down my brother.

“But you think it’s really in our favor,” I say, disgusted with the idea. This is our greatest fucking enemy we’re talking about. The thought of a truce with him goes against every fiber of my being.

“Until we fix our leak, yes,” Brady says.

I like that he’s blunt. But I don’t like that he’s right. There’s the mole, yes, and there’s also the fact that we can’t afford to lose any more men. To Seven, men are resources to be expended. But to me, they’re fathers, brothers, friends. Their lives are in my hands, and the best way to protect them right now would be through a truce. Assuming Seven’s intending to play fair.

Which is a dangerously big assumption.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. The right decision is the coward’s decision, and I don’t want to make it.

“Let’s hear what Da has to say,” I tell Brady. Something this important should be run by Da anyway, but my brother’s mouth pinches into a line. He knows I’m deflecting. And we both know this may be the last time I’m able to do it.

I tell myself I don’t care. My fiancée’s waiting for me.

* * *