Page 15 of Monstrosity

"Retaliate." I take a long pull of beer, thinking about Dasha at work right now, probably making someone's latte and having no idea her life changed last night. "He's been watching our people. Learning routines. Looking for soft targets."

"Soft targets like what?" This from Oskar, who slides into the seat across from me.

Still, the temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.

Tor's hand moves instinctively to the knife on his belt, and Fenrir's expression goes from concerned to lethal in the space of a heartbeat.

"How long?" Runes' voice is deceptively calm, but I know him well enough to recognize the rage simmering underneath.

"Months, according to Santos. Maybe longer." I fish out my phone, show them the photo Bembe's people sent. "This was taken while I was dealing with their boy. They wanted me to know they were watching her."

"Motherfuckers." Tor stands abruptly, pacing to the window. "I should have seen this coming. Should have been more careful."

"We all should have," Fenrir agrees. "But hindsight's not gonna solve our problem. Question is, what do we do about it?"

"We end it, once and for all." The voice comes from the doorway, and we all turn to see Bjorn entering, his limp barely noticeable these days.

Behind him, half a dozen other members file in, faces grim.

Within minutes, the main room is packed.

Word travels fast in the club, and everyone knows that when church gets called this early in the day, it's serious business.

Runes takes his place at the head of the table, and the room goes quiet.

"Brothers," he begins, voice carrying the authority of twenty years leading this club. "We've got a situation that requires immediate action."

He lays out what we know—Santos' death, the surveillance on our women, Bembe's escalating threats.

With each detail, the room gets quieter, the air thicker, just waiting to blow.

"This cocksucker's been fuckin’ with us for five years," growls Rati, the club's enforcer. "Ever since we took out his operation at the docks. How long are we gonna let him think he can threaten our families?"

"Long enough," Fenrir agrees. "We tried the diplomatic approach. Tried giving him space to rebuild elsewhere. Bastard took that as weakness."

"Not weakness," Runes corrects. "Mercy. Which he mistook for an invitation to keep pushing." His eyes find mine across the table. "Rio, tell them what Santos said about their plans."

I recap the interrogation, leaving out the more graphic details but hitting the important points.

The room gets quieter with each thing I reveal, until you can hear a pin drop when I mention the photos of Dasha.

"So what's the play?" asks Gorm, one of the newer prospects. He's eager, still thinks this life is about the bikes and brotherhood.

Give him a few years, and he'll learn it's really about the blood you're willing to spill for your newfound family.

Normally, I’m not even inkirkjabecause we don’t have prospects in here, but we need all hands on deck when it comes to the Culebra cartel.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Bjorn says flatly. "And that's what Bembe is—a terrorist who thinks he can use fear to control us."

"Agreed." This from several members at once.

"What about the cops?" someone asks. "Santos turns up dead, they're gonna start sniffing around."

"Let them," Runes says. "Santos was dirty. Had a long list of enemies. Could have been anyone who took him out." His smile is sharp as a blade. "Besides, where's the body? Far as anyone knows, Miguel Santos just disappeared. Happens all the time in his line of work."

A few chuckles ripple through the room.

Dark humor is normal when you're discussing murder over morning coffee.