Page 114 of Sadistic

Tiny roses etched into the eye sockets.

Numbers scratched into the base: 24.

"Old school Culebra death markers," Mikhail says, glancing at them. "Haven't seen these in years. Bembe's really embracing tradition."

"Twenty-four hours." I pocket the skulls, their weight insignificant compared to what they represent. "He gave us twenty-four hours before he starts hunting her family."

"Want me to turn around? We could still catch up to her?—"

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "She wants space. She'll get it. Take me to the clubhouse."

Mikhail raises an eyebrow but changes lanes, heading toward the Raiders’ territory. "You sure that's wise? Showing up there after what just happened?"

"Runes needs to know his family was threatened. We handle this together or not at all."

The drive takes fifteen minutes that feel like hours.

I check my phone obsessively—no texts from Revna, just updates from the security team confirming she and Dalla made it back safely to their apartment.

The mall security footage has already been handled, witnesses encouraged to forget what they saw.

Money solves most problems, but not the one eating at me now.

She looked at me with such betrayal. Like I was everything she feared I'd become.

Maybe I am.

The familiar streets of Jacksonville blur past, each turn taking me further from her and closer to what needs to be done.

I think about our first night together, how she'd trusted me enough to come to my penthouse, to let me see her without walls.

Now those walls are back up, reinforced with disappointment and fear.

My phone buzzes.

A message from my father:

Heard about the mall. Resources are available.

I don't respond.

The last thing I need is my father's version of help—usually involving excessive violence and no witnesses.

This requires finesse, something the older generation of Bratva never quite mastered.

The Raiders' clubhouse appears through the windshield, bikes lined up outside like chrome soldiers.

More than usual—word travels fast in the MC world.

They know something's happened.

We arrive at the gate and are immediately allowed through, everyone knowing exactly who we are at this point.

The building itself looks innocuous enough, just another commercial property in an area full of them.

But I know what happens behind those walls, the decisions made, the blood spilled.

The moment I exit the car, I smell it.

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