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“No. Making sure you know who owns the consequences.”

Nevermore mutters, “Emotionally healthy morning all around.”

I want to hit him, mostly because he’s right.

By the time church breaks, the tracker is back under Sweet’s rear bumper. Ghoul has her keys, and I have broken my word before she even knows it.

I make it halfway down the stairs before CSI’s phone buzzes.

He stops.

Everyone behind him stops.

“What?”

“Tracker moved.”

“No shit. Ghoul’s driving.”

“Not ours.”

The room changes.

CSI looks at the screen. “Razor’s account accessed the tracker. Somebody’s watching.”

Hyde turns. “Positions.”

Everything moves at once. Brothers split. Phones come out. Ghoul takes Sweet’s car toward the equipment shed while two bikes shadow him from roads Razor shouldn’t see. CSI tracks the connection. Hyde runs the operation from the hall.

I stand there feeling sick.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Then CSI says, “Vehicle moving toward the shed. Black van.”

Same kind spotted near vendor access.

Proof.

The club was right.

I was right.

That does not make me feel better.

“Plate?” Hyde asks.

“Covered.”

“Occupants?”

“Two, maybe three.”

Nevermore looks at me.

I don’t look back.