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My name is printed across the front in block letters. It has no return address, and the postmark belongs to a Seattle processing center.

“Was it opened?” Drew asks.

Tessa hands me the envelope. “No, it hasn’t been opened. I noticed there was no return address, so I brought it straight to you.”

I slide one finger beneath the flap. The paper inside is ordinary printer stock with no letterhead or watermark, and a single date is printed in the center: September 18th, twelve years ago.

The conference room disappears behind a concrete warehouse near the Seattle docks. Rain strikes its metal roof while Ilya Gulkin kneels beneath a hanging work light. He stole from the Bratva, sold names to a rival crew, and arranged two murders. The order came from the pakhan, but my finger pulled the trigger.

I watch Ilya fall, search his body, and leave before the men assigned to clean the room arrive. There’s no reason for his death to reach a vineyard twelve years later.

“Andrei.” Reid’s voice snaps me out of the memory. He rises from his chair and watches my face. “What happened on that date?”

I fold the page along its existing lines and place it back inside the envelope. Cassie has gone still across the table, and her eyes search mine with the same focus she gave every guarded answer last night.

“It concerns my past,” I say honestly.

“That’s not an answer,” Cassie replies, releasing Birdie’s hand. “Does it connect to Connor, the loans, or the SUV?”

“I don’t know yet.” The lie would be easier if part of it weren’t true. The date connects to Ilya, but I don’t know who sent it or how that person became involved with Connor’s investigation. “No one outside a small group should know what happened that night.”

“Do Reid and Drew know?” she asks.

Reid watches me without speaking, which answers her.

“Not all of it,” I admit.

Cassie rises, leaving the planner on the table between us. “You expect me to stay on your property with armed guards while refusing to tell me why someone sent you a date that changes your entire face.”

I move around the table until I stand in front of her. She lifts her chin, anger burning in her eyes.

“I expect you to stay because a man tried your lock and an SUV is watching this property,” I tell her. “What happened twelve years ago may have no connection to your brother.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Belief isn’t proof, and you know it.”

“That answer sounded better when Connor used it.” She steps closer. “If my brother disappeared because of your past, I have a right to know.”

“If my past reaches Connor, I’ll tell you what you need to understand.”

“You decide what I need?” Cassie folds her arms and steps back. “We keep returning to that problem.”

“We do.” I lower my voice as Reid guides Birdie toward the door and Drew follows Tessa into the hall. “You have every reason to want an answer.”

Cassie waits until the door closes. “Then give me one.”

I look at the envelope in my hand. Twelve years ago, I carried out an order that should have stayed buried with Ilya Gulkin. Now a stranger has tried Cassie’s lock, and I can’t tell her whether the two events are connected.

“I can tell you the date belongs to a man who died,” I say. “I need to find out who sent it before I say more.”

Her eyes remain on mine. “You knew him?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still leaving things out.”

I reach for her, then stop. She watches my hand fall to my side, and I can see that she understands exactly what I almost did.