Page 16 of Monstrosity

"Rio." Runes' attention turns back to me. "You know this threat better than anyone. What's your recommendation?"

I take a moment to consider, thinking about Dasha making coffee this morning, about my girls sleeping peacefully in their beds, about Flora bleeding out because monsters like Bembe think family is fair game.

"We take the war to them," I say finally. "Stop reacting and start hunting. Bembe wants to play games with our families? We show him what happens when you threaten a Raider's woman."

"Seconded," Tor says immediately.

"All in favor?"

Every hand in the room goes up. Not a single dissent.

"Motion carries." Runes bangs his gavel once. "As of right now, we're at war with the Culebra cartel. Rio, I want you to bepoint on this. Whatever you need, whatever resources, you got it."

"I want surveillance on Bembe and his lieutenants. Round-the-clock. I want to know when they piss, when they eat, when they breathe wrong." I'm already making lists in my head. "And protection details on all family members. Discrete but effective."

"Done." Fenrir pulls out his phone. "I'll coordinate with our contacts, get eyes on their operations by tonight."

"What about the women?" Rati asks. "Do we tell them what's going on?"

The question hangs in the air like smoke.

It's the eternal dilemma of our world—how much do you tell the people you love about the darkness that surrounds them?

"Need-to-know basis," I decide. "Increased security without the panic. They'll notice, but we can play it off as general precautions."

"Your call," Runes agrees. "But Rio? Don't let pride get in the way of keeping them safe. If Dasha needs to know, tell her."

I nod, but inside I'm already planning ways to protect her without involving her.

Dasha deserves the normal life she's built for herself.

She deserves to make coffee and laugh with customers, and come home to help with homework without looking over her shoulder for cartel killers.

The meeting continues for another hour, covering logistics and contingencies.

By the time we’re done, the sun is high and my phone has buzzed with three texts from Dasha.

Morning rush was crazy. Mrs. Preston ordered her usual and asked about you.

Lunch special today is turkey avocado. Want me to save you one?

Everything okay? You seem tense today.

That last one makes my chest tight.

Even through text messages, she can read me better than people I've known for years.

I text back:

Everything's fine. Save me the sandwich. See you tonight.

It's a lie, but a necessary one.

At least until I figure out how to keep her safe without scaring her away.

The afternoon passes in a blur of phone calls and planning.

I check in with our surveillance team, review security footage from around the coffee shop, and try not to think about how easy it would be for someone to hurt Dasha if they really wanted to.