Page 105 of Manic

It's a dangerous game we're considering playing, but sometimes the biggest risks yield the greatest rewards.

Dad turns to me next, his eyes searching mine. "What about you, son? What do you think?"

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, aware of the weight of my words in this moment. "I think we need to give him a shot," I say finally, my voice steady despite the churning in my gut. "All of us have gotten one chance at some point. If we don't give him this opportunity, we might be signing his death warrant."

The room falls silent as my words sink in.

I can see the conflict playing out on my brothers' faces—the desire for the advantage this could give us warring with the inherent danger of bringing an outsider into our fold.

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "All right," he says, his voice carrying the finality of a decision made. "We'll put it to a vote. All in favor of bringing this Rio in as a prospect and offering protection to his family, say 'aye'."

A chorus of 'ayes' fills the room, including my own.

As the sound fades, I can't help but wonder if we've just set something in motion that we won't be able to control.

"It's settled then," Dad declares, bringing the gavel down once more. "Now, we need to figure out the logistics. Vanir, can you get us a number for this Rio?"

Vanir, our tech guru, nods. "Sure thing, Prez. Just need his full name."

I can't help but chuckle. "Shit, I don't think any of us thought to exchange numbers in all the chaos."

Ivar pipes up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've got you covered. Took a pic of his license earlier. Full name's Rio Rojas, and he's got a place in Providence."

Vanir's eyebrows shoot up. "Damn, Ivar. You got all that from a license?"

Ivar's smirk widens into a full grin. "No shit, there's an address right on it. Already verified it's legit, too."

I shake my head, impressed as all shit.

Sometimes I forget just how thorough Ivar can be.

Dad clears his throat, drawing our attention back to the matter at hand. "So, what exactly is Rio doing for us? We need details if we're going to make this work."

Fenrir leans forward, his expression serious. "He's playing the Patriot like a fiddle right now. Says the bastard meets his dealers every day at some rundown house in Betton Hills."

I can see the wheels turning in my father's head. "We need that address," he says, his voice low and determined. "And we need to move fast."

A murmur of agreement ripples through the room.

The energy has shifted—we're no longer just discussing possibilities.

We're making a fucking action plan.

"Hold up," I interject, aware of the risk of speaking out but unable to stay silent. "We need to make sure we get solid intel from Rio before we jump into anything. We can't afford to go in half-cocked."

Dad nods, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Tor's right. We can't jump the gun on this. We need to play it smart."

The tension in my shoulders eases slightly.

It's always a relief when my father agrees with me, especially in front of the club.

"What about Rio's family?" I ask, remembering the mention of a girlfriend and child. "Are we bringing them in?"

Dad considers for a moment before nodding. "They can stay at the clubhouse until things blow over. It's the safest place for them right now."

I nod, thinking of the empty rooms down the hall.

It's not ideal, but it's better than leaving them exposed to potential retaliation.

---