Page 48 of Manic

I pull out the baggie, holding it up so they can see the eagle insignia clearly. "It's everywhere," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the churning in my gut. "Same stamp as before. Whoever this is, they’re trying to take our territory."

Fenrir curses under his breath, while Kraken's face hardens into a mask of barely contained rage.

But it's my father's reaction that really gets to me.

His eyes darken, a storm brewing behind them that I haven't seen in years.

"Tell me everything," he commands, and I launch into a detailed account of our night, from the dealer we met to the exact words exchanged.

As I finish, my father runs a hand over his face, the lines around his eyes seeming deeper than ever. "This changes things," he says, his voice carrying a weight that sends a chill down my spine. "Shit's gonna change, and it's gonna change fast."

I nod, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread coiling in my chest. "What's our next move?"

My father exchanges a look with Fenrir and Kraken, a silent communication born from years of trust and shared battles. "We're gonna hit back," he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. "Hard. But first, we need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

As they start discussing strategy, my mind drifts momentarily to Meghan and Tindra.

I need to be there by six, and I hope my father lets me out of here before then.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Meghan

I stare at the clubhouse door, my heart pounding in my chest.

The familiar Viking logo painted on the worn wood seems to mock me, daring me to step inside.

Here I am, Tindra by my side, about to plunge back into a world I thought I'd left behind forever.

"Mom?" Tindra's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

I force a smile, trying to hide the turmoil churning inside me. "Yeah, sweetie. Just... remembering."

Her brow furrows with concern. "We don't have to go in if you don't want to."

For a moment, I'm tempted to take her up on that offer.

To turn around, head back to our peaceful home tucked away in the woods, and pretend this invitation never happened.

But I can see the excitement dancing in Tindra's eyes, barely contained beneath her worry for me.

I can't deny her this chance to connect with her father's world, no matter how much it scares me.

"No, it's fine," I say, squeezing her hand. "Let's go in."

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door.

The familiar scent of leather, beer, and cigarette smoke washes over me, and suddenly it's like I never left.

The main room is packed, bodies pressed together as music thrums through the air.

Laughter and shouts mingle with the clinking of bottles and the sharp crack of pool balls colliding.

Tindra's eyes go wide as she takes it all in. "Wow," she breathes. "This is so cool!"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm, even as anxiety gnaws at my gut. "Yeah, it's something all right."

We make our way through the crowd, and I can feel eyes on us.

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