THE LEDGER OF ASH

ISLA

Mercer stayed hidden behind the crate, watching the man work the lock on Ferris's storage door. The signet ring caught the moonlight again as he shifted his weight, and Mercer felt a cold certainty settle into his gut. He hadn't remembered anyone from Darius Hale's circle sniffing around Ferris the first time. This was new. Something had already changed, and he'd barely done anything yet.

The lock gave way with a soft click. The man slipped inside, and Mercer weighed his options. He could follow, risk being seen, and possibly learn something valuable. Or he could wait and see what walked back out.

He chose to wait.

Ten minutes passed before the man emerged again, empty-handed as far as Mercer could tell, and disappeared into the dark streets without looking back. Mercer waited another few minutes to be sure, then crossed the road and tried the door himself. It was locked again, properly this time, as if nothing had happened at all.

Whatever the man had done inside, he'd done quietly, and Mercer had no way of knowing what without breaking in himself and risking exposure before he understood what he was even looking for. He made a note to come back before the debt was meant to trigger and left the docks with more questions than he'd arrived with.

He didn't get far before he noticed someone following him.

She stayed a good distance back, matching his pace without making it obvious, ducking into doorways whenever he glanced over his shoulder. Mercer had spent fifteen years learning how to spot a tail, and this one was good, better than most he'd dealt with, but not quite good enough.

He turned down a narrow side street, waited against the wall, and grabbed her wrist the moment she rounded the corner.

She reacted fast, twisting free and stepping back into a defensive stance, one hand already reaching for something hidden beneath her cloak. Mercer raised both hands, showing he wasn't holding a weapon.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said.

"That's usually what people say right before they do," she answered, not lowering her guard an inch.

Mercer studied her properly now that they were face to face. Auburn hair pulled back tight, sharp amber eyes that missed nothing, plain clothes chosen for function rather than style. He didn't recognize her, which struck him as strange, given how thorough he'd once been about knowing every face connected to the council's business.

"Why were you following me," he said.

"Why were you watching Ferris's warehouse at midnight."

"That's not an answer."

"Neither was yours."

Mercer almost smiled despite himself. "Fair enough. My name is Mercer Vale."

"I know who you are," she said. "Small trade merchants, three warehouses, recently started asking questions about council politics that a man in your position has no business asking."

That got his attention. "You've been watching me."

"I've been watching everyone who spends time near Darius Hale's business, directly or otherwise. You qualify, whether you meant to or not."

"And you are."

She hesitated, weighing whether to answer at all. "Isla," she said finally. "Isla Thorne."

The name meant something to Mercer immediately, though she had no way of knowing that. In his previous life, Isla Thorne hadn't entered his world until years after his empire was already built, arriving as a fierce, unyielding voice on the council pushing reforms that Darius Hale fought at every turn. He'd respected her from a distance but never worked with her directly. Meeting her this early changed the shape of everything he thought he understood about how his second chance might unfold.

"You're gathering evidence against Darius," Mercer said. It wasn't a question.

Isla's expression tightened. "That's a dangerous thing to say out loud to a stranger."

"I'm not planning to repeat it to anyone."

"Convenient, since I have no reason to trust you." She crossed her arms. "Why were you at the docks tonight. And don't waste my time with a lie about checking on shipments."

Mercer considered how much to tell her. She was sharp, sharper than most people he'd dealt with at this stage of rebuilding his life, and lying to her outright felt like it would cost him more than it gained. "I was watching a merchant named Ferris," he said. "I have reason to believe someone connected to Darius Hale is planning to sabotage him."

"Why would you care what happens to Ferris?"

"Because Ferris owes me a debt he doesn't know about yet, and I'd rather collect it on my own terms than have Darius Hale's men muddy the situation."

Isla's eyes narrowed. "That's a strange way to talk about a business dispute."

"It's a strange situation," Mercer said, which was as honest as he could afford to be.

She studied him for a long moment, the same careful, assessing look Tamsin had given him days earlier, like both women had learned from the same hard lessons about trusting men who spoke in half answers. "I saw someone leave that warehouse tonight," Isla said. "One of Darius's men. Kester, I think, based on the way he walks."

"You know his men by their walk."

"I've spent two years learning everything I can about Darius Hale's operation. Their walks, their habits, the taverns they drink in when they think nobody's paying attention. It's tedious work, but it's the only way to build a case that actually holds up."

"A case for what."

Isla's jaw tightened. "That's not something I'm sharing with a stranger who happens to be lurking around the same warehouse I'm watching."

"Then let's stop being strangers," Mercer said. "I think we're circling the same problem from different directions. It might go faster if we stopped pretending otherwise."

"You don't know anything about my problem."

"I know Darius Hale is dangerous, patient, and better at manipulation than open conflict. I know he finds people who already feel wronged and gives them just enough reason to act on it. I know he's been building influence quietly for years, waiting for the right moment to use it."

Isla went very still. "Where did you learn any of that?"

Mercer hesitated, aware he'd said more than a small trade merchant should reasonably know. "I pay attention," he said, echoing the same excuse he'd given Keston days earlier.

"That's not an answer, and we both know it." Isla stepped closer, studying his face like she was trying to read something written beneath the skin. "You talk like someone who's already lived through whatever's coming. Like you know exactly how this ends."

The words landed harder than Mercer expected, close enough to the truth that he felt his composure slip for half a second before he caught it again. "Everyone has instincts about how things end," he said. "Mine happen to be good."

"Or you're hiding something."

"Maybe both."

Isla held his gaze a moment longer, clearly unsatisfied but unwilling to push further, at least for tonight. "Fine," she said. "I don't trust you, Mercer Vale, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. But if you're right about Ferris, and if you really do know something useful about Darius Hale, then we have a problem worth discussing properly. Not here, and not tonight."

"Where, then."

"I'll find you," she said, already stepping back into the shadows. "You seem like the kind of man who's easy to find when it matters."

She disappeared before Mercer could respond, leaving him alone in the narrow street with his pulse still elevated and a growing, uncomfortable awareness that rebuilding his empire the second

time around was going to require more honesty than he'd planned on giving anyone, including himself.