The first thing that changed wasn't security.
It wasn't patrol routes.
It wasn't Matthew's schedule or Rafe's increased presence or the silent men now stationed at every gate.
It was the silence.
The estate had always been quiet.
Controlled.
But now it was the kind of quiet that listened back.
Three days after the confrontation, nothing had happened.
No attacks.
No messages.
No threats.
And that was exactly the problem.
Matthew sat at the head of the dining table long after breakfast had ended, untouched coffee cooling in front of him. Across from him, Vinny fed their daughter mashed fruit while pretending not to watch him think.
"You're waiting for something loud," Vinny said gently.
Matthew didn't look up.
"Yes."
"You won't get loud."
"No."
"You'll get erosion."
Matthew finally lifted his eyes.
Vinny met them calmly.
"He's not coming through the door with a gun," Vinny continued softly. "He's going to pull threads."
Matthew's jaw tightened faintly.
