Page 98 of Manic

Rio's eyes meet mine for a split second, and I see raw fear there.

He swallows hard before answering. "The Patriot... he ain't a kind person. You all know what kind of man he is. A racist who hides his targeted deaths behind overdoses."

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous.

I clench my fists, anger bubbling up inside me.

He’s a sick son of a bitch who deserves to die.

I find myself respecting Rio, despite everything.

He knows Fenrir isn't fucking around, and he's chosen to talk.

It takes guts to flip on someone like the Patriot.

I've seen tougher men break under less pressure.

As I process this new information, my mind races.

How many innocent lives has the Patriot taken?

How many families has he torn apart?

And how the hell are we going to stop him?

I lean forward, curiosity and suspicion mingling in my gut. "A name like Rio, he has to know you're not white, right?"

Rio's laugh is sharp and bitter, echoing in the dank basement. "Yeah, but I'm white enough to pass for white."

His eyes, dark and haunted, meet mine. "He asked about my name and I lied, told him I got it because I'd go to Rio for vacation every summer. Fucker believed it, thank God."

I nod, impressed despite myself.

Quick thinking under pressure—that's a valuable trait in our world.

But it's also yet another reminder of the danger Rio's been living with.

The constant fear of being found out, of one wrong move costing him everything.

Rio shifts his gaze to Fenrir, his bound hands flexing behind his back. "So, what you want me to do?"

Fenrir's voice is cool, calculating. "I want you to play along. Make it seem like things are fine." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "And I want intel. The address where the Patriot meets these dealers, and?—"

"Hold up," Rio cuts him off, and I tense, ready for trouble. "What's in it for me?"

Fenrir's lip curls. "You don't get popped."

Rio barks out a laugh, but there's no humor in it. "After I do this shit, people are gonna find out. I won't be safe." His eyes dart between us, desperation edging into his voice. "I won't have a crew, and I'll be needing one."

I watch Fenrir carefully, seeing the wheels turning behind his eyes.

This could be an opportunity—or a massive risk.

Rio's proven he can think on his feet, but can we trust him?

Fenrir leans in, his voice low and dangerous. "What are you saying?"

Rio takes a deep breath, and I can see him steeling himself. "I want to be one of you."

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