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I point at the charity ground. “Hammer already named the charity ground. The Saints know about it and the old landing. They probably know pieces of the release route too, but I don’t think they know which piece matters most.”

Ezra follows the route line with one finger. “You want to give them something convincing to follow.”

“Yes.”

The bell tolls once beyond the windows. Daylight still fills the cemetery, but it has gone strangely pale.

Theo comes closer to the map. “What are you planning?”

“You and Wes carry a case of evidence toward the charity ground. Make it obvious. Put printed copies inside, one of the incomplete route maps, anything that looks important enough to protect.”

“You want them following us,” Theo says.

“Yes.”

“And where are you?”

I tap the true start of the release route at Home Road behind the caretaker house. “With Ezra.”

Every muscle in Theo’s body locks. “No.”

It’s his fear talking.

I cross to him and press both hands to his chest. “Ezra’s getting worse, and the Saints are already here. We may not get another clean chance to reach the release route before they take the stone, take me, or interfere with him.”

Theo’s scent floods the room, leather and bourbon wrapped around panic.

“The ritual doesn’t stop the Saints,” I continue. “That’s what you and Wes are for. The decoy buys Ezra and me enough time to reach the route.”

“I’m not using you as bait.”

“I’m using what Hammer believes about us as bait,” I say. “He expects you to protect me, the records, and the stone all in one place. So we give him something that looks exactly like that.”

“That doesn’t make this better.”

“No. It makes it useful.”

I hold Theo’s gaze. “We split on purpose. You and Wes pull them east. Ezra and I take the real route while the Saints are watching you.”

“And if they know the real branch?”

“Then we adjust.”

“Pepper.”

“I understand the route better than I did yesterday,” I say. “Maybe better than they do. I can’t promise more than that, and we don’t have time to build a perfect plan.”

A fist pounds twice against the front door. We’re too late to text Wes but Theo doesn’t move.

I scratch beneath his beard. “This is my plan, alpha. Trust me?”

His hands close around my waist. “I hate your plan.”

“I know.”

“I need you to remember that when I complain about it for the next fifty years.”

My throat tightens. “Deal.”