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Wes pushes off the wall. “You knew the east access mattered before you told anyone why.”

“I told Pepper and Ezra.”

“You didn’t tell BESTF.”

“You’re not my pack.”

His eyes harden, but his voice stays even. “No. I’m the man trying to keep your pack alive.”

The words hit right where he intended.

I look toward Sweet Tooth. Through the front glass, I see Pepper stand at the counter with Scarlet beside her. Honey is talking with both hands. Pepper laughs at something, but her shoulders are still tight.

Wes follows my gaze. “You think shame is private. It isn’t. It leaves blind spots.”

My hands curl before I make them relax. “I joined the Saints at seventeen. I ran what Hammer told me to run. Old maintenance lanes. Flood cuts. Boat landings. Cemetery edges. Places no one patrolled because they were too wet, too overgrown, or too forgotten to matter.”

“And the east access?”

“One of the first routes Hammer showed me.”

Wes’s jaw tightens. “Hammer? You mean Bukey Shot?”

“Same man.” I nod once. “He called it useful history. Said old towns always had roads they stopped admitting existed.”

“Did he know about the marks?”

“I don’t think he knew what they meant.” The answer tastes thin. “But he knew where some of them were.”

“And you?”

“I knew paths. Not symbols. I swear I never knew they were part of an older system.”

“But you knew enough to block the access when you became keeper.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because Ezra had started fading by then and the house was mine to protect. No matter the locks or chains, I could still feel every hand that ever pointed me down one of those roads. “Because I didn’t want the Saints anywhere near my home.”

Wes studies me. “And now?”

Now the same route mark sits under my dock like a joke carved by God, Ezra hears water when the house goes quiet, and Pepper has a family name buried in ledgers. “Now I think they were never as far gone as I wanted them to be.”

Wes steps closer. “Then write it down. Every route Hammer taught you. Give me every name he used. Even if you think it’s useless.”

“I was a kid.”

“I know that.”

My head snaps toward him.

He doesn’t back down. “You were a kid. You also remember. Write it down.”

For a second, I hate him for bringing the past back to my door. Then I breathe. “I’ll make the list.”

“Today.”