Page 14 of Monstrosity

Maybe it's the way his eyes scan the shop too carefully, or how he seems more interested in the layout than the menu board.

"What can I get you?" I ask when he approaches the counter.

"Coffee, black. Large." He pulls out his phone while I pour, seemingly scrolling through messages. "You're Dasha, right?"

My hand stills on the coffee pot. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

"Friend of a friend." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You work here most days?"

Warning bells start ringing in my head.

Rio's words from this morning echo back to me:

If anything feels off, anything at all, you call me immediately.

"Sometimes," I say vaguely, setting his coffee on the counter. "That'll be three-fifty."

He hands me a five and waves off the change, but he doesn't leave.

Instead, he finds a table near the window and sits there for the next hour, occasionally checking his phone but mostly just... watching.

Watchingme.

When he finally leaves, I catch myself checking the locks on the back door and making sure my phone is easily accessible.

I tell myself I'm being paranoid, that Rio's warning has me jumping at shadows.

But I can't shake the feeling that something's shifted, that the safe little world I've built with Rio and his daughters is about to change in ways I can't even imagine.

I just don't know how right I am.

CHAPTER TWO

Rio

The clubhouse parking lot is already packed when I pull up, twenty minutes after dropping Dasha at work.

Emergencykirkjameans drop everything and get here now, no questions asked.

The fact that half the club responded this fast tells me word about Santos has spread.

Good. Let them know what happens when you fuck with our families.

Inside, the air carries the permanent markers of club life: worn leather, motor oil ground into concrete, and the ghost of a thousand beers shared between brothers

This place has been my second home since I was caught working for the Patriot, back when I thought the worst thing that could happen was getting tortured to death by that senile old man.

Runes didn’t have to give me a chance to show I could be more than one of the Patriots' men, but he did.

I spied on the Patriot, gave the club intel, and in turn, they provided me with protection.

They gave me a new shot at life before my wife was ripped from me, and they’ll never know how grateful I am for that.

"Rio." Runes nods from behind the bar where he's nursing what looks like his third cup of coffee. "Heard you had a productive evening last night."

"Productive's one word for it." I grab a beer from the cooler, even though it's barely past ten AM. Some conversations require alcohol. "Santos won't be moving product near any more schools."

"Good." Fenrir appears from the back office, VP patch gleaming on his cut. "Fucker had it coming. Question is, what's Bembe gonna do about it?"