“The vote is leaning toward execution," Iris said grimly. “Torin's winning them with fear."
Leia tightened the moon-iron shackle around her wrist. “Then we show them something scarier—proof."
They stood in a snow-dusted alley behind the miners' district. A rebel scout emerged from the shadows, dropping a wrapped parcel at Leia's feet.
“The ledger," he said. “You didn't get it from me."
“I never get anything legally," Leia muttered.
Cassian appeared from the shadows. “Anything useful?"
Leia unwrapped it quickly—pages of shipment records, names of recipients. One name repeated.
Torin.
Beside it, a sigil: Silas's black crescent.
Leia grinned. “Got him."
Cassian didn't smile. “It won't be enough. He'll claim forgery."
“We need more?"
“We need someone who lived through it. A voice.
