Samuel found a trail on the judge. They didn't follow the trail; they hunted it. Every shell company they cracked open bled into another, a maze of fake names and ghost accounts, until the path finally stopped breathing at one place: a dimly lit, high-end bar tucked behind mirrored glass and velvet secrecy.
The last place Adora had been seen alive.
Max didn't slow down as they approached the entrance. Ruby barely kept pace beside him, her pulse loud in her ears, instincts screaming that this was it, that whatever truth they were chasing was waiting on the other side of that door.
"Remember," Ruby murmured under her breath, her fingers brushing his sleeve. "We don't spook him. We need him talking."
Max didn't look at her. His jaw flexed. "He'll talk." That wasn't confidence. That was a promise. They walked in without hesitation, not as customers, not as investigators.
As reckoning.
