Page 46 of Scornful

Rio speaks for the first time all night. "How you want to play this?"

"Simple and direct," I decide. "Emil and Rio take the back stairs, cover the window. Magnus and I go through the front. He rabbits, you grab him."

They nod, spreading out.

I give them a minute to get in position, then head up the exterior stairs with Magnus behind me.

The metal creaks under our weight, probably announcing us to anyone paying attention, but I don't give a shit.

Let him know we're coming.

Room 12's door is painted an ugly green that's peeling in places.

I can hear a TV playing inside—some action movie with lots of gunfire.

Ironic if you ask me.

I don't bother knocking.

One solid kick and the cheap door splinters inward.

Laken's on the bed, half-dressed, reaching for something on the nightstand.

My guess is it’s probably a weapon.

I'm on him before he can grab it, my fist connecting with his jaw hard enough to spin him sideways.

"Going somewhere?" I ask as he tries to scramble away.

Magnus closes the door behind us—or what's left of it—while I haul Laken to his feet by his shirt.

Laken's eyes are wide with fear, darting between Magnus and me. "Fuck! What do you want?"

"What do you think?" I slam him against the wall, enjoying the way his head bounces off the cheap paneling. "You've been feedin’ information to the Patriot. You've been stalkin’ the club. Did you really think we'd let that slide?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?—"

Another slam into the wall cuts off his lie. "Wrong answer."

Emil and Rio appear at the window, having climbed up from outside.

Emil's eyes are burning with rage when he sees Laken.

"Let me have him," Emil says, climbing through. "This piece of shit hurt my sister."

"Get in line," I growl, not ready to give up my prize yet.

"Please," Laken whimpers. "I can explain?—"

"Save it for Fenrir," Magnus says. "He's got questions for you."

At Fenrir's name, Laken goes pale.

Good.

He should be scared.

"But first," I say, pulling him close enough that I can smell his fear-sweat, "let's talk about Astrid."

---