The doubt didn't leave Kairo after that night.
It followed him into meetings, it was there behind his smiles. Maribel spoke with calm authority. He had built his life on instinct inside the ring, instinct kept him alive. Outside it, instinct had led him to trust the wrong people before.
Lysandra's face kept returning to him.
Not the glamorous one the world knew, but the woman standing in his study, stripped of performance, urgent and afraid.
Be careful , she had said.
The more he thought about it, the less her death felt accidental.
At breakfast the next morning, Maribel sat across from him, scrolling through reports on her tablet. "The press cycle will move on quickly," she said smoothly. "We should schedule a community appearance this weekend. Reframe the narrative."
Kairo watched her closely. "You're not shaken."
She looked up, surprised. "Should I be?"
"A woman we both knew is dead," he said. "Someone who warned me about danger."
Maribel offered a sympathetic smile. "Kairo, in your world, tragedy is constant. Fighters retire injured. Celebrities loose control and die. People die suddenly. If we let every loss shake us, we lose Control "
Control.
That word landed wrong.
Naya stood near the door, listening, every muscle in her body moved with disgust . Her secret phone was a weight she could feel even when it wasn't on her. She had proof now or close enough but proof meant nothing if Kairo wasn't ready to see.
Maribel continued, "The syndicate rumors if that's what Lysandra was implying are classic misdirection. Fear thrives in uncertainty."
Naya's voice cut through the room. "Or in denial."
Both of them turned to her.
Maribel's smile tightened. "You think I'm in denial?"
"I think," Naya said carefully, "that timing matters. Lysandra warns us. Then she's dead. That's not coincidence."
Kairo rubbed a hand over his face.
"I don't know what's true yet," he admitted. "But I know if someone is playing a long game around me. And Lysandra got scared enough to break ranks."
Maribel set her tablet down. "You're letting suspicion poison trust."
"Or," Kairo countered quietly, "I'm finally questioning the right things."
For the first time, Maribel's composure slipped. Just a fraction. Her eyes sharpened, assessing, restrategizing.
"If you start doubting everyone," she said softly, "you'll destroy what you're building."
Naya met Kairo's gaze. "Sometimes you have to tear something open to save it."
Silence fell.
Maribel rose smoothly. "I think I need to give you space," she said. "Grief does strange things."
After she left, the house felt lighter and less dangerous.
Kairo turned to Naya. "You know something."
"Yes," she said.
"And you're afraid to tell me."
"Yes."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I need the truth. Even if it costs us."
Naya swallowed. "Then you have to promise me something."
"What?"
"That you won't dismiss it because it scares you."
Kairo held her gaze, resolve hardening in his chest. "I promise."
Outside, unseen and unannounced, the syndicate adjusted its timeline.
Because Kairo Blackwell was beginning to look in the wrong direction.
And Maribel Crossley had never failed to eliminate a threat once it fully revealed itself.