Page 108

"We don't make deals with rats," Kraken spits.

"You will when you hear what I have." Dylan reaches slowly into his jacket, freezes when several hands move to weapons. "Just papers. Proof of what I know."

"Careful," Fenrir warns. "Twitchy movements make my brothers nervous."

He pulls out a manila folder, holds it up like a shield.

"Go ahead," Runes says, voice deceptively calm. "Show us what you think you've got."

Dylan opens the folder with shaking hands, revealing photographs.

The compound raid from last month.

Clear shots of faces, bikes, license plates.

Even some of the weapons we were carrying, serial numbers potentially visible.

My blood runs cold, but I keep my expression neutral.

"I've got hundreds more," he says, gaining confidence from our silence. "Digital copies stored in multiple locations. Cloud servers you'll never find. Enough evidence to bury your whole club."

"Evidence of what?" Fenrir asks. "Some bikes at a warehouse? Could be anywhere."

"Don't play stupid." Dylan flips to another photo—this one showing Tor carrying computer equipment out of the burning building. "I know what you did. Who you killed. I've got recordings too. Conversations. Plans."

In my mind, I'm already dismissing everything he's saying.

He's a rat, a liar, an abuser.

No one with half a brain would trust a word from his mouth.

But I let him talk, let him dig his own grave deeper with every word.

"Recordings?" Tor steps forward, genuinely interested. "What kind of recordings?"

Dylan's chest puffs out a little. "Phone conversations. Some of your boys aren't as careful as they think. Especially after a few beers at Bubba's."

"Bullshit," Oskar calls out. "We don't talk business at Bubba's."

"No?" Dylan pulls out his phone, scrolls through it. "How about November third? Magnus and Emil discussing a shipment that needed to be moved before the cops got wind?"

Magnus goes still.

I remember that night—the Patriot had compromised one of our routes.

We had to scramble.

"Or October twenty-first?" Dylan continues. "Dag talking about needing more supplies for 'pest control'?"

"You've been recording us for months," Runes says, no longer sounding calm.

"Over a year, actually." Dylan's gaining confidence, mistaking their attention for fear. "Ever since I started dating Everly. I bugged your club, and your fucking bar. Also, it didn't hurt that Everly got chatty after sex."

Red floods my vision.

My fists clench so tight my knuckles crack.

"Careful." Dylan notices my reaction, takes a step back. "I'm not done yet."