Page 33 of Scornful

With that, he peels out, leaving me standing there feeling like a piece of shit.

By the time I make it to the clubhouse forkirkja, the main room is already packed.

Brothers, prospects, and a few of the old ladies mill around, tension thick in the air.

I don’t know how I know, but something's up.

I spot Tor at the bar and make my way over. "What's goin’ on?" I ask, accepting the whiskey he slides toward me.

"Someone hit one of the Patriot's gun shipments last night," he says, voice low. "Three of his men dead, cargo gone."

"Wasn't us," I say immediately.

We would’ve planned for something like that, but this just means the Patriot has pissed someone else off too.

"No shit. But he thinks it was." Tor downs his drink in one swallow. "And apparently he's out for blood."

My eyes scan the room automatically, looking for Astrid before I remember she wouldn't be here forkirkja.

Something else catches my attention instead—Fenrir watching me from across the room, his expression unreadable.

I nod in acknowledgment, and he returns the gesture before turning to speak with Runes.

No suspicion there, just the normal respect between brothers.

Still, I feel like my luck is going to run out and Fenrir will find out what I’m doing with his daughter.

I didn’t reply to Astrid's text.

It was too risky with Emil breathing down my neck all day, But now, withkirkjais about to start, I pull out my phone and type quickly:

After church. I own a cabin off Route 319. I’ll text you the address, be there by 10.

I hit send just as Runes calls us in.

Everything feels tense as all the full patches and officers file in and take our seats.

The table feels smaller than usual, like we're all pressed too close together in the wood-paneled room.

Runes sits at the head, weathered face grim as he lays out what we know. "Patriot lost a shipment last night," he confirms what Tor told me. "Three of his men dead, guns in the wind. Word is he thinks we're behind it."

Rati, our Enforcer, growls. "We should've been behind it."

"Wasn't our territory," Runes reminds him. "Would've caused more problems than it solved."

"And now?" Logi, our Sergeant-at-Arms, asks.

"Now we prepare," Fenrir says, meeting each of our eyes one by one. "The Patriot's been gunning for us since Tindra's birthday. This is just another excuse for him to escalate."

Almost everyone nods their head or mumbles in agreement.

"There's more," Runes continues. "We think someone's been feeding him information."

The room goes deadly quiet. Nothing worse than a rat.

"You think it's one of us?" Kraken asks, voice dangerously low.

"Not at this table," Runes says firmly. "But someone with access. Someone who knows our movements, our families."

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