Page 129 of Dublin Beast

She shakes her head. “I’m saying that given what you have put together, maybe there are people more qualified to take it to the next step. To not only expose these bastards, but who have the force to shut them down.”

“People like who?”

“My father ran anti-crime task forces my entire life and some of the highest-ranking people are my pseudo ‘uncles’ or ‘aunties’. They have the clout and the power behind them to get wire taps and surveillance teams. With Eddie Mason dead, the trail is going cold. These people could dig in and maybe get further, faster.”

The idea makes me a little crazy. “I know time is not on my side, but this is my fight. I’ve come so far, I want to take these assholes to the mat. I need them to pay.”

“No question. I understand that. But isn’t the end result more important than who’s putting them in the ground? From what you’ve learned, there are dozens, if not hundreds of women out there who have been taken. They all deserve the greatest chance for justice, right?”

They do. Of course they do.

I bite my lip. “I don’t know…”

Nora reaches over and squeezes my wrist. “You’ve run point on this alone for ages. Why not share the load? The people I know—theycanfinish this.”

My throat tightens.

Iwantto be the one to take it all the way. But the truth is… she’s right. The best chance we have to stop these men—to save whoever might still be caught in their web—is working with people who have the power and budget to hit hard.

I let out a long sigh. “I would want updates. I don’t want to be cut out.”

Nora smiles. “This is your fight, girlfriend. I’ll make sure everyone knows it and I’ll kick their butts if they forget it, I promise.”

After a long moment, I nod. “Okay. Make the call.”

Nora squeezes my hand. “I’ll set up a meeting.”

* * *

The glass doors of the corporate tower whoosh closed behind us as Nora and I step into the chilled air of early evening. On any other trip, the sights and sounds of Paris would have me sitting up and soaking it all in. Tonight… I just don’t have it in me.

Relinquishing my files to Devon Watts wasn’t easy. It felt like ripping out a piece of my soul and handing it over in a manila folder.

But Nora’s “Uncle Devon” is the real deal—an ex-Scotland Yard veteran turned anti-crime task force head honcho. Quiet but commanding. He’s the kind of man Iknowwill burn the world down to get justice.

I just gave him the match.

Still, handing everything over—my notes, my findings, my theories—feels like failure dressed up as logic. Like I’m giving up on them.

The beat of Nora’s steps match mine as we descend the stone steps toward the curb. “Are you okay?”

I nod, but the knot in my stomach tightens. “I will be. I’m just… adjusting.”

To letting go.

To not being in control.

To facing that someone else might finish what I started—and do it better.

I ran this mission on adrenaline, rage, and a healthy dose of survivor’s guilt. I pushed it as far as I could. But now that I’ve handed it over, I can't help feeling like I’ve betrayed Macie and Chantal.

Like I should’ve done more.

I draw a deep breath into my lead-filled lungs and force my emotions down to make way for logic.

Time is the enemy,and the longer I chase ghosts, the less chance we have of saving the women who are still alive. If they are.

“Ain’t that a pretty sight?” Nora gushes, smiling.

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