Page 38 of Unhinged

I take it. His grip’s firm. Measured. Like someone who just watched exactly what our omega can do—and respects it.

"Nikola," he introduces himself. “I just bought this club and the bar.”

Acid raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Nikola smiles, unfazed. “Heard there’s room for more players in town.”

I step forward. "You heard wrong."

Nikola shrugs, an arrogant smile still in place. “A shame, then, since I already own both buildings. My business is thriving here. Would be a shame to shut it down. In fact, I have no plans to do so.”

Brydgett's voice cuts through the tension. “What do you want? What could the mafia possibly want in this small little town?”

Nikola raises an eyebrow. “How did you know I was mafia?”

“Your name is Nikola, that screams mafia, not to mention the suit, and your whole look is giving Italian mob boss vibes,” Brydgette interrupts.

Nikola laughs, deep and low. "As I said, I’ve been here a few times. I like the space back here. But up front? That’s another story. I like this town. There’s room to grow. Was I lied to?"

"You were," I answered, my tone cold. "We’re in charge here. We let the cartel do their thing if they stay out of our way. Lately, though? It’s been harder, and now you’re here. So tell me, Nikola. What do you really want?"

"We should discuss this in private," Nikola says, nodding toward the back. "Follow me."

He leads us and a few of his men to a door that opens into the alley behind the warehouse. The door clicks shut, and Nikola turns, his expression shifting from casual to something darker.

"The cartel took my sister. Trafficking. I want to find her—and I’ll burn them all to the ground in the process."

Acid lets out a huff. "You have the manpower for that?"

"I do."

"Then what? You come here, wage a war, and leave?"

Nikola shakes his head. "No. I want to stay here. Keep my business."

"What business?" I ask.

"Drugs, money, fighting..." Nikola waves a hand at the warehouse.

"We control the drug trade here," I snap. "Except for tar and crank. We don’t allow that. But someone’s distributing it, and that’s why we’re here. We want to know who and why."

"So, if I agree to keep my drugs out of here and clear out the trafficking ring, maybe we can have a truce," Nikola suggests. "I launder my money through the bar, host my fights and wagers, even get my party supplies from you."

"What do you want?" I ask, eyeing him warily.

"Coke, Smoke, LSD, Molly, Shrooms, and Angel Dust."

"Done."

"What about Spice and Flakka?" Nikola asks, skeptical.

"Hell no. That shit makes people eat faces off," Acid growls.

Nikola shrugs, but the tension in the air thickens. "Then maybe we don’t have a deal after all," Gears replies.

"Maybe we could just throw you out of town and set the place on fire." Acid smirks.

Nikola’s men move at the snap of his fingers. They swarm toward us. I’m already moving, fists up, adrenaline surging.

"Get ready," Acid growls, and before I can blink, he's already launching at one of the goons.

The alley's chaos is nothing but fists, kicks, and the sickening sound of bone meeting bone. I'm focused—every punch I land is calculated. One of Nikola’s men throws a hook, but I duck, landing a hard blow to his ribs. He grunts, staggers back, but doesn't go down.

Acid’s victim is already on the ground, his neck snapping with a sickening crack. It’s over in an instant. He wipes his hands off, looking down at the man like it’s nothing.

Arrow's off to my left, taking on a bigger guy.

It’s three on three now, and even though they’ve got numbers, we’re holding our own. But Nikola’s still standing there, observing, like he’s enjoying the spectacle. Like we’re all just pawns in some game.

Then, out of nowhere, one of Nikola’s men swings a pipe toward me. It’s coming in fast—too fast. I barely manage to dodge, but the edge catches me on the arm. I grunt, shaking it off, but it’s enough to make me pay attention.

Then there's a sharp whistle. It cuts through the air, making us all freeze.

I glance toward Nikola. His hands are raised in the air, an odd smirk playing on his lips. But something’s wrong—his neck's exposed, a knife pressed against it, just enough to nick him. Blood trails down his throat.

And there, standing behind him, is Brydgett. Her eyes lock on mine, cold and determined. She holds the knife with effortless precision, her stance unyielding.

“Enough.” Brydgett says, her words ringing out and hanging heavy in the air.

The chaos around us dies. No one moves. Even Nikola’s men seem to pause, hesitant, caught between loyalty and fear.

I step forward, eyes still on her. "Brydgett, what the hell are you doing?"

She doesn’t flinch, her gaze unwavering as she looks back at me. “Doing what needs to be done.”

Nikola lets out a small chuckle, the blood from the small cut on his throat now dripping slowly. "I see... You've got your own ways of handling things."

She smiles, but it’s a grin that promises nothing but trouble. “You may have the muscle, Nikola. But I know how to play the game.”

The knife presses just a little harder against his throat. Nikola’s smirk falters, and for the first time, I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.