Page 116 of Sadistic

"And he wanted us to know it. This wasn't subtle—he approached them in public, made sure they understood how vulnerable they are." I sink into the offered chair, suddenly exhausted. "This is my fault. Rescinding his wedding invitation?—"

"Was the right call," Runes interrupts. "My daughter was upset. You fixed it. Now we deal with the consequences."

The simple acceptance surprises me.

I expected rage, blame, maybe violence.

Not this pragmatic understanding.

But then, Runes has been leading the Raiders for over two decades.

He knows how the game is played.

"We have options," I start, but he holds up a hand.

"Before we discuss that, there's something you need to know." He lights a fresh cigar, taking his time.

The ritual of it—cutting, lighting, that first draw—gives him a moment to gather his thoughts. "We found Njal."

My spine stiffens. "Where?"

"Motel off I-95. Been there three days, according to the desk clerk. Paying cash, different name, but it's him." He blows smoke toward the ceiling. "He's not well, Doran. We think he's having an episode."

"Episode?"

"Bipolar disorder runs in his family. His brother Bjorn was diagnosed years ago after he nearly killed someone during a manic phase. The signs were there with Njal—the mood swings, the way he'd go days without sleeping. But he refused help." Runes' expression softens slightly. "The boy's sick. Not evil, not plotting—sick."

"He's been unstable for weeks. My men reported erratic behavior even before he left his cut."

"Because he's manic. Probably hasn't slept in days, hasn't taken meds if he even has them. His brain's misfiring, telling him he's the hero in some grand story." Runes leans forward. "I'm telling you this so you understand—the club will handle Njal. He's ours, even when he's broken."

Something hot flares in my chest. "If he comes after me?—"

"He won't get the chance." Rati's voice is flat, final. "We protect our own. Even from themselves. Even when they don't want protection."

"I'm not letting some lovesick ex take me out," I snap, pride overruling sense.

The idea of being killed by Revna's former lover, sick or not, is intolerable.

Runes actually chuckles, dark and humorless. "Boy, you wouldn't see him coming. Manic episodes don't follow rules or logic. He could decide you're a demon at 3 AM and show up with a blowtorch. Could convince himself that killing you is the only way to save the world. But that's not going to happen because we're bringing him in tonight."

"When?"

"After we deal with your Cuban problem." He stubs out the cigar. "Which brings us back to options. You apologize publicly, showing weakness to every cartel and crew watching. We go to war, bodies pile up, innocents get caught in the crossfire. Or..."

"Or?"

Fenrir speaks for the first time. "Or we get creative. Use the resources we have."

I understand immediately what he's suggesting.

"You want to use Njal." The words taste bitter. "Point his mania at Bembe."

"The thought crossed my mind," Runes admits. "Lovesick ex-boyfriend goes after the man threatening his girl. Believable narrative. Gives Bembe his blood without us losing face. The media writes it off as a crime of passion."

"That's sick."

"That's survival." But he looks uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. "Though I don't like it either. Using a family member's illness... it goes against everything we stand for."

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