Caleb didn't watch Elias leave. He kept his hands steady, his expression neutral, and took a slow sip of his untouched drink. The warmth did nothing to ease the cold knot in his gut. Dante had accepted the lead, for now. Elias had made it clear that any slip, any inconsistency, would cost Caleb more than just his place in the syndicate. It would cost him his life. He needed to stay ahead, to control the story before someone else did. He set his glass down and stood, moving toward the back of the club with measured steps. Lyra was waiting in the dim alcove, her arms crossed. "I saw Elias talking to you," she said quietly. Caleb nodded. "He wanted to remind me that I'm still one wrong move away from getting buried." Lyra sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That's because you are. The fake lead bought you time, but not much. If Dante doesn't get results soon, someone's going to start looking deeper." Caleb leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Then we give them something to find." Lyra frowned. "You want to fabricate more?" "No. We need to find the real culprit." She gave him a skeptical look. "You want to play detective while walking a tightrope over a death pit?" "If I don't, the rope gets cut anyway." Caleb's voice was firm. "Whoever set up this job is still out there, and if I don't get to them first, Dante will find out I lied. I need leverage before that happens." Lyra exhaled sharply. "And how do you plan to do that?" Caleb glanced toward the club's exit. "By paying a visit to someone who knows exactly how these kinds of thefts are pulled off." Lyra studied him for a long moment, then shook her head. "This is going to get worse before it gets better." Caleb gave a dry smile. "It always does." Without another word, he turned and slipped out into the night.