Page 96 of Manic

It's not much, but it's enough to get them off our backs.

I'm the last one in, and I make sure to lock the door behind us.

The interior of the house isn't much better than the outside—peeling wallpaper, stained carpets, and a musty smell that speaks of years of dampness and neglect.

Fenrir wastes no time getting down to business. "So, what the fuck happened out there?" he asks, his voice low and intense.

I lean against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest, waiting to hear what Dwight has to say.

Whatever it is, I have a feeling our day is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Dwight's laughter cuts through the tense atmosphere, a harsh bark that sets my teeth on edge.

I watch him closely, noting the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Fucker came in on my turf trying to sell that trash," Dwight says, puffing out his chest. "So I taught him a thing or two. I remember you said to let you know if I saw it around, and this seemed a bit better. Figured you'd want a piece of this little problem."

My jaw clenches.

This isn't just about territory; it's about keeping people alive.

Tension radiates off Fenrir, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a simmering rage.

"I want to know what this fucker knows," Fenrir growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You get a name?"

Dwight nods, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, calls himself Rio."

The name hits me like a punch to the gut.

I speak up before I can stop myself, "That's the guy me and Emil bought shit from a few weeks back."

Fenrir's eyes snap to mine. "Good to know," he says, nodding. "So he's established."

I think back to that night with Emil, how we'd scoped out Rio's operation.

At the time, it had seemed like just another dealer, but now... now it's clear there's more going on here than we realized.

Dwight chuckles, a sound that sends a chill down my spine. "Oh yeah, that salty fucker is established all right."

As I process this information, I can't help but think about Meghan.

I shouldn’t have walked out the way I did.

It was fucked up and I’m a better man than that, even when my emotions get to me.

"What else can you tell us about this Rio?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

Dwight jerks his head toward a door at the far end of the room. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

My heart rate kicks up a notch as we make our way down a narrow staircase.

The musty smell of damp earth and mold assaults my nostrils, growing stronger with each step.

The basement is dimly lit, shadows dancing on concrete walls as we descend.

And there he is—Rio.

The sight of him sends a jolt through me.

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