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I look over at my brother to translate. Hayden shrugs, pushing off his desk. “New drug on the scene. Haze. They sayone pill helps you to concentrate. Take five? and it’s like ecstasy, but better. Looks like she took a few earlier and an hour later she was dead.”

Something inside me seizes at the mention of Haze, the memory of Alex sitting across me in that bar flaring inside my head. What are the chances that he would ask me about it and the next day a girl is dead in one of our clubs?

Her short black sequined dress has ridden up her thighs, showing a hint of lace, and her chest is almost spilling out of the tiny cups.

I glance at Smith. “Give me your jacket.”

He frowns but quickly does as he’s told, handing me the jacket. I lay it over her body. It covers her better than the dress did.

“You sure it was the Haze? Not something else?” I ask, still crouching to look at her closely. Alarm bells are ringing in my head and as hard as I try not to, my brain drifts off course to molten sugar-coloured eyes.

“According to Ramos, it’s all she took.”

“Not an overdose, then?”

Hayden shakes his head. “Word on the street is that you can’t O.D. That’s part of the appeal. You can take as many pills as you like and float.”

I frown. That sounds way too good to be true and judging by the blue and purplish blotches that have begun to sprout on her calves, it is. They are faint, but against her pale skin, they are noticeable enough.

Ramos is still crying, rocking back and forth with his eyes glazed over, begging for forgiveness from someone who probably can’t hear him from inside the walls of Summit.

Sorry, Ramos, the line between God and Senna was disconnected long ago.

“Who gave you the Haze?” I ask him.

He glances at me, like he’s noticing me for the first time. “He—he,” he swallows, “His name is Rich. I can give you his number?”

I meet Hayden’s eyes as I stand up straight. “What would you like me to do?”

Hayden steps closer, lowering his voice as Ramos continues to mumble apologies under his breath. “Find whoever is supplying this shit and tell them to stay the fuck out of our clubs, preferably Snake territory completely. The last thing I need is dead bodies piling up in my bathrooms and the police sniffing around,” he says, eyes flashing. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the importance of staying out of the police’s way.”

I meet his eyes, my jaw tightening. “Where’s Xander?” I ask. “Did you call him?”

Hayden shakes his head. “Not yet. We both know he doesn’t know how to keep things quiet. You do.”

I try not to smile at my brother’s compliment but fail miserably. So, what, I’ve always had a bit of a praise kink. Sue me. “You’ve always known how to charm me.”

“I’m serious, Rowan.” He doesn’t allow himself to smile. Always so serious, my oldest brother. “We don’t know whose product this is, and that’s dangerous. If it’s Moreau’s crew, then we’re fucked. They would be gaining an easy foothold on our side of the river. If they spill into our territory, that won’t end well, and on the off chance this isn’t a freak accident and this shit is dirty—that’s bodies tied to our name.”

I frown. “You think Moreau would push dirty product on this side of the river to cause panic?”

It’s plausible, but why would The Scarlet Ravens’ leader fuck up the peace he worked so hard to broker with my mother all those years ago?

Decades ago, our mother and Elias Moreau, the official heads of The Snake and the Scarlet Ravens respectively struck anentente cordiale of sorts after decades of hostility. The Snake would operate on the northern side of Senna, and Scarlet Ravens remained in the south. They stay on their side; we stay on ours without interference.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It would be strange for him to agitate the agreement now, especially with something like this. Scarlet Ravens work on brute force. This seems too sneaky, too slow. Maybe I’m overreacting, but there might be something we’re missing.”

“I don’t think you’re overreacting.” I think of Alex again, that pathetic look of desperation on his face.

“Do you know something?”

I swallow. Why would Alex ask me about Haze? He works for Organised Crime; wouldn’t they have information on this already? So, maybe he thinks The Snake is behind it. But if he does think that, then why would he ask to meet in an empty bar and offer to beg for a hint of information?

Alexander Kimura is many things, but an idiot is not one of them. He wouldn’t bother contacting me unless he is desperate—unless he doesn’t have the resources the OCU affords him.

So, Alex is working alone, but why?

“Rowan, what aren’t you telling me?” Hayden asks, narrowing his eyes.