Mercer didn't sleep. He spent what remained of the night moving between the warehouse and Isla's office, checking on the guards posted at each location, unable to shake the Ledger's warning from his thoughts. By the time gray light crept over the rooftops, he'd convinced himself Hale would strike again before the sun fully rose.
He was wrong about the timing. He wasn't wrong about the danger.
The message arrived just after dawn, carried not by a runner but pinned to the warehouse door itself, discovered by Corin during his final watch. No wax seal this time, no careful formality. Just a scrap of paper, hastily written, the handwriting jagged in a way Mercer had never seen from Hale before.
*You took everything I built in a single day. I'm taking something back tonight. The tannery on Mi
