Chapter 160 One from the Thorne Family, and One Who Is Not.

Chapter 160 One from the Thorne Family, and One Who Is Not.

The footage jumped.

An hour and a half ago — two people in gray work clothes came in through the back door.

Caps pulled low, masks covering half their faces. Their movements weren't fast, but there was training in them — first thing through the door, they scanned the corners and ceiling. Then one stayed by the entrance while the other walked through the space.

The one who went in took a few photos with his phone, spent less than three minutes, and left the same way he came.

Nora didn't saw their faces.

But her finger hit pause.

The one by the door — his weight favored the left, his right knee had a habitual outward rotation, and his left shoulder sat about two centimeters lower than his right when he walked.

Nora dragged the progress bar back and replayed it three times.

She recognized that gait.

At the exhibition, when Julian came in through the side door of the gallery, he had three people behind him. First was Calla, second was an assistant in a dark navy suit, and the third — standing on the far end, holding the door.

The one holding the door. Weight left. Right knee out. Left shoulder lower.

Identical.

Nora pressed her fingers against the edge of the screen for two seconds.

Julian's people.

His men were following the intelligence trail on The Ashes?

Or was Julian himself already inside The Ashes' network?

Nora closed the player and opened the encrypted channel.

No message this time. She called directly.

Todd picked up fast.

"You're still up?"

"Look at a screenshot first."

Nora sent him a frame capture of the man who'd stood by the door.

Five seconds of silence on the other end.

She counted. Todd's silence was never empty — every second he went quiet, another link clicked into place.

"You're in Eastside District 7." It wasn't a question.

"After the false lead went out, someone swept this warehouse. The one who came was Julian's man."

Todd's breath came through the receiver, just slightly off-beat.

"Big Nory, I need to tell you something."

He didn't call her that often. He had when they were kids, then mostly stopped. When it slipped out now, whatever came after it was usually hard to sit with.

"Go ahead."

"Julian isn't just someone who 'has history with The Ashes.'" Todd's voice slowed. "He's one of The Ashes' external backers."

Nora's grip on the phone tightened.

"Three rounds of seed funding for The Preacher — one of them ran through a money-laundering channel in Julian's overseas gallery. The amount wasn't large, but the timing was early. Almost two years before The Ashes' earliest recorded public activity."

Nora's nails pressed into her palm.

Calla at the exhibition today. Moving close to Oliver. The painting. Standing beside him, making conversation. Leaning in, dimples showing.

That's not a manipulative ingénue clawing her way up.

That was The Ashes placing someone next to Oliver through the Flynn family.

"When did you find all this?"

"I didn't. Atlas left it."

Nora's back was against the seat. She didn't move.

"Atlas had four documents locked in an overseas safe. Three years ago, his lawyer transferred them to me when the time lock released. The second one — it's a partial record of the financial ties between Julian and The Ashes."

Nora kept her voice flat. "You've had this for three years. Three years, and you're telling me now."

"The notes Atlas left in the margins —" Todd paused — "next to Julian's name, he wrote one line: 'The painting is still with him. When the time comes, someone will collect it.'"

Nora opened her mouth.

What Atlas left behind — "the painting is still with him" — and the message Calla sent earlier — "that painting your second brother did, my father's kept it all this time" — lined up.

Calla knew about the painting.

So did Julian.

And Todd had said, "I didn't paint it."

Atlas did.

Before he died, their brother left a painting in the hands of one of The Ashes' external backers. Why?

"Todd — the painting Atlas left with Julian. Was there something stored inside it?"

Todd didn't deny it.

"I'm not sure. But on the second page of that document, there's one line — 'Verification requires two people to be present: one from the Thorne family, and one who is not.'"

Two people.

One from the Thorne family.

One who is not.

Nora stared out at the dark alley beyond the car window. Her heartbeat hit the inside of her ears twice.

"I'm hanging up."

Todd didn't say anything else. The line cut.

Nora set the phone on her knee and looked down at the folds in her skirt for two seconds.

Then she picked it up and dialed another number.

Oliver.

Two rings and he answered.

"Don't touch Calla's painting."

The words came out in one breath, faster than usual.

A beat of quiet on the other end.

"I wasn't going to." Oliver's voice was clean, no inflection. "There was a micro signal transmitter inside the frame. Wyatt took it apart after I got back."

Nora's thumb hovered over the screen.

"When did you notice?"

"When she handed it to me. The frame weight was off — the bottom right corner was about twelve grams heavier than the top left."

Nora drew a slow breath and swallowed it.

Calla had handed over a signal transmitter in plain sight, in front of forty people. And the man receiving it had clocked a twelve-gram discrepancy on the spot.

She walked Oliver through Julian's connection to The Ashes.

The backers, the laundering channel, the timeline on the seed funding — three minutes, nothing wasted.

Silence on the other end again.

Longer than the last one.

Three seconds. Four. Five.

Oliver spoke, his tone dropping half a register.

"I mentioned before that the Percy family and the Gray family crossed paths three times."

"Yes."

"Julian was the intermediary the second time."

Nora's fingertip found the edge of the coin in the hidden pocket of her skirt. The metal was cold.

The pieces connected.

Julian — backer for The Ashes. Calla — Chase's fiancée. The Gray family — on the other end of three intersections with the Percy family.

The shortwave Ian sent out tonight — the receiving end was in Eastside District 7.

Julian's people had already come to case the place.

And Ian — who had he been sending to?

Nora held the phone and didn't hang up.

"I found something. Ian may be compromised."

"When are you coming back?" Oliver came in fast, like he'd jumped straight past the first part.

"An hour."

"Come by tomorrow. Bring Todd."

Nora's hand stilled.

Oliver was asking for Todd to be there.

In all the time she'd dealt with this man, his attitude toward Todd had always been the same — distance, not hostility, not warmth, no initiative.

This was the first time.

"What are you going to say?"

A pause on Oliver's end. Short — a fraction of a second.

"There are things I can't explain on my own. I need Todd to fill in the other half."

Nora slowly released the coin.

"Alright."

She hung up.

She leaned back against the seat and turned toward the window.

The streetlights were gone. The car moved through the dark, the engine humming low.

Her phone screen was still on. The last message in the thread was from Oliver, sent half an hour ago — [The dress is non-refundable.]

Nora turned the screen off.

Before she went back to the safe house, there was one more thing she had to do.