Page 63 of Monstrosity
"Rio—"
"Tomorrow night, we end this," he continues. "The Irish are in position, our intel is solid, and Bembe won't see us coming. By this time tomorrow, he'll be dead and his organization will be scattered."
"And then?"
"Then we go home. We live our lives. We probably face new threats eventually, because that's the nature of this world. But we face them together."
"Together," I echo, settling more firmly against him.
We sit by the creek for another hour, talking about everything and nothing.
About the girls' school plans, about maybe taking a vacation when this is over, about the future we're building.
Normal couple things against the backdrop of cartel wars and brotherhood.
Finally, as the sun reaches its peak, Rio stirs. "We should head back. The girls will wonder where we are."
"And I should check on Meghan and Tindra," I add. "Make sure they're okay after this morning."
The ride back is calmer, the desperate edge worn off.
I still hold Rio tightly, but now it's about connection rather than fear.
By the time we pull into the clubhouse, I feel almost steady again.
"There you are!" Meghan rushes over as we enter. "I was worried—your throat, holy shit, the bruises are worse."
"I'm okay," I assure her, voice still raspy. "How are you? And Tindra?"
"Shaken but fine. Tor's been hovering like a mother hen, and someone told me Bodul apparently gave Tindra his number 'in case she needs anything.'" She makes air quotes, grinning. "I think our little purple-haired barista has an admirer."
"She could do worse," I observe. "How's the shop?"
"Cops came, took statements, made a mess." Meghan shrugs. "We'll be closed tomorrow anyway while the guys handle business. Might as well stay closed until this is over."
It's a stark reminder that tomorrow night, while we're safely locked in the clubhouse, our men will be at war.
"Dasha!" Cali's voice carries across the room. "We made cookies! And saved you some!"
"Did you?" I move toward the kitchen, where both girls are covered in flour and chocolate. "What kind?"
"All kinds," Florencia says proudly. "Starla said we could experiment."
"I made pink ones," Cali announces. "With sprinkles!"
"Of course you did." I accept a thoroughly decorated cookie, taking a bite even though I’m not really that hungry. "Delicious."
The rest of the day passes in a blur of normal family activities.
Lunch with the club, helping with homework, refereeing a dispute between the girls over whose turn it is to pick the movie.
If it wasn’t for the bruises on my throat and the guys watching the club with their guns drawn, it could be any day.
Dinner is quieter than usual, everyone aware that tomorrow is the big night.
The men talk in low voices, finalizing details, while the women keep the children distracted.
I catch Rio watching me throughout the meal, his expression soft even with the circumstances.
