"One less welfare leech to?—"
Rio's knife opens him from sternum to navel.
Not deep enough to kill.
Just enough to hurt.
"Names," Rio says calmly. "Give us names, or I start pulling things out."
Maybe it's Rio's dead voice.
Maybe it's the realization that grief makes men capable of anything.
But the Patriot starts talking.
Names pour out between gasps of pain, all for the hope that he’ll somehow be able to survive this.
Suppliers in Mexico.
Distribution hubs across three states.
Corrupt cops, judges, politicians.
A network that goes deeper than we imagined.
Tor records everything on his phone, typing notes as fast as the Patriot speaks.
"Judge Morrison in family court. Senator Peterson on the appropriations committee. Chief Daniels in Fairfield PD."
Each name is another thread in a web of corruption.
"Dylan Mitchell," I prompt when he pauses. "What's his real role?"
"Smart boy, that one. Came to me over a year ago. Said he was dating some biker's daughter, could get inside information for the right price."
My blood freezes. "He targeted Everly specifically?"
"Of course. Kraken's daughter, the EMT who'd have access to all kinds of useful intel?" He coughs, blood bubbling on his lips. "Though I think he liked toying with her more than anything. She was fun to him, a game."
"What else?" Runes demands.
"Shipping routes. Safe houses. The whole network's in the computers upstairs." He's fading now, blood loss making him gray. "Password's AmericaFirst1488."
Of course it is.
Nazi piece of shit to the end.
"Tor, go get everything," Runes orders. "Download it all."
As Tor heads upstairs, the Patriot looks at Rio. "Do it then. Finish your revenge."
"This isn't revenge," Rio says quietly. "This is justice. Revenge would be finding your family. Your grandchildren. Showing them what real loss feels like."
For the first time, fear flickers in the Patriot's eyes. "You wouldn't?—"
"No," Rio agrees. "Because I'm better than you. But you'll die knowing I could have. That your hatred created men capable of being worse than you ever were."
He slides the knife between ribs, precise, final.