Page 52 of Jagger's Remorse
"I think there's whatever we make."
"And what are you making here, Scarlett? What's the endgame?"
I shrug. "Watch you burn. Rule what's left. Basic conquest strategy."
"Rule what?"
"Northern California. My father's territory. My birthright."
I almost think he’s impressed now. "Through what exactly?"
"Through whoever's left standing when the smoke clears."
It’s like it clicks for him. "That’s why you're starting wars? Turning us against each other?"
"That's just necessary. Clearing out the weak before the real players emerge."
He steps closer, but I don't retreat. "And I'm what? A real player?"
"You're a special project."
"Because I killed your father."
"Because you let me live."
The truth hangs between us like a blade.
"My uncle Pablo has insurance too," I say, changing tactics. "Not the kind that gets you arrested. The kind that gets you rich."
His eyes sharpen.
"What kind of insurance?"
"Routes the DEA doesn't know about. Contacts in every major port. Judges who stay bought. Politicians who play ball." I trace patterns on his chest. "Everything a smart organization needs to go from motorcycle club to empire."
"And Pablo would just give this up?"
"Pablo's dead." The lie rolls off my tongue smooth as aged whiskey. "Suicide. Couldn't handle the guilt of selling his only niece. But before he died, he told me where everything's hidden."
"Convenient."
"Tragic, actually. He was the last family I had who remembered my father as more than a cautionary tale."
"So now you're alone."
"Now I'm motivated."
"To do what?"
"Whatever it takes."
He backs me against the wall.
Here we go.
The scene I orchestrated from the moment I woke up.
"You're playing a dangerous game."
