Page 3 of Monstrosity

The fuckers who took my wife from me.

The ones who left my daughters motherless.

"The elementary schools," I say, making a shallow cut along Santos's forearm. "Why target kids?"

"N-not targeting them directly," he gasps. "Just... convenient locations. Less heat from cops, you know? Who expects dealers hanging around playgrounds? They’re too busy looking for pedos to worry about us."

"Men who've studied your operation for two years." I clean the blade on a rag. "Men who've been watching, waiting for the right moment to cut the rot out of their city."

"Look, man, I just follow orders?—"

"Whose orders?" The knife finds the soft spot between his thumb and forefinger. "Bembe's? Or someone higher?"

"Bembe! It's all Bembe! He wants Jacksonville locked down, wants to push north into Georgia—fuck, he wants everything he can get his greedy hands on!"

Blood drips steadily onto the concrete. "Keep talking."

"He's been planning something big. Says he's got leverage now, something that'll bring the MC to their knees." Santos is babbling now, pain and fear making him stupid. "Says he knows how to hurt the guys who matter most."

My hand stills. "What kind of leverage?"

"I don't know the specifics, man, I swear! Just that he's been watching, learning routines. Looking for soft spots."

"Soft spots." I set the knife down, picking up the pliers. "In the MC?"

"In the leadership! The guys with the most to lose!" He's practically screaming now. "Families, kids, girlfriends—anyone who matters to the shot-callers!"

Cold spreads through my chest like ice water. "How long has he been watching?"

"Months! Maybe longer! Please, that's all I know, I swear on my kids' lives!"

"Don't." My voice goes deadly calm. "Don't swear on children's lives. Not when you've been poisoning them with your product."

I apply the pliers to his pinky finger, just enough pressure to get his attention. "Names, Miguel. Which families has he been watching?"

"I don't know names! I just deliver shit and collect money!" The finger snaps with a wet crack. His scream echoes off the concrete walls. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Wrong answer." I move to the next finger. "Try again."

"The president's daughters! Runes's twins!" Blood and snot stream down his face. "And some coffee shop girl, I think? Someone important to one of you?"

The world stops.

Everything goes perfectly, terrifyingly still.

Coffee shop girl.

Meghan’s coffee shop.

Tor is even more interested than before. Meghan’s his ol’ lady.

"What coffee shop?" My voice sounds like it's coming from underwater.

"I don't know! Some place downtown! Bembe's got pictures, surveillance shit! Says she's the key to breaking one of your guys!"

The pliers clatter to the floor.

Five years.