Morris's POV
I had Sullivan send over the number and grabbed his laptop without hesitation.
My fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur, code streaming across the screen like digital chaos—too fast to follow.
When I finally stopped, my jaw tightened.
"Last ping came from Brady Street in Bancroft. Toby just went there recently for some contract deal, didn't he?"
The mention of Toby's name made Sullivan's expression darken.
His eyes went cold, and I could see the realization dawning on him.
"Makes sense," he said quietly. "If Isobel's got beef with us, running to Toby would be her move."
Toby had been our family's nemesis for decades. This wasn't some typical corporate rivalry—it cut much deeper.
He wasn't like other power players we dealt with.
Toby was from Alverland technically, but his roots traced back to Bancroft.
