Page 118 of Collateral Love
When the door closed, Channy spoke. “You don’t trust him.”
“I trust patterns,” I replied.
“And his?” she pressed.
“Too many mirrors,” I said. “Too much reflection, not enough substance.”
Outside, rain began tapping against the windows. Soft. Persistent.
The kind that didn’t flood.
Just eroded.
I stared at the board again—names, arrows, timelines.
Cameron.
Charles.
Miles.
Three points.
One shape.
By morning, the city woke up afraid.
That was how I knew we’d done it right.
Fear didn’t come from sirens or headlines anymore. It came from pauses. From canceled meetings. From men who stopped answering phones, they used to clutch like they were out of oxygen. Cameron’s people had money frozen in ways that didn’t yet make sense. Charles’s people were getting visits fromagencies they’d never heard of, asking questions that sounded polite and felt lethal.
Nobody had died.
And that scared them more than bodies ever could.
Xavier stood beside me at the glass wall overlooking the city, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp. “He moved again.”
“Miles?” I asked.
X nodded. “Subtle. He delayed one of the injunction responses by three hours. Claimed a clerical error.”
“That’s not an error,” I said. “That’s a signal.”
Channy walked in then, folder under her arm, face calm in a way that told me she’d already made her decision.
“They served me,” she said.
I didn’t ask who. I didn’t need to.
“Official notice,” she continued. “They want my cooperation. Voluntary interview. No charges yet. Just… pressure.”
Xavier swore under his breath.
I studied her. “You scared?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I’m pissed.”
She slid the folder onto the table. “I’m not testifying. Not now. Not ever.”
