Page 111 of Mortify

The tranquilizer dart catches him mid-sentence.

One second he's ranting, the next he's looking down at his chest in confusion.

"What—"

His knees buckle.

He hits the ground hard, eyes rolling back, folder spilling photos across the pavement.

"Jesus," Emil says, staring at the collapsed form. "Did he just have a fucking heart attack?"

"Look at his ass, dumbass," Ivar points out.

Sure enough, a bright orange dart sticks out of Dylan's right cheek.

We all turn to look at Dag, who's casually holstering a tranq gun.

"What?" he says. "Seemed like he was done talking."

"Could've warned us," Oskar mutters, but he's grinning.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dag prods Dylan with his boot. "Out cold."

"How long's he out?" Runes asks.

"Four hours, maybe five. Depends on his tolerance. Gave him enough to drop a bear."

"Perfect." Fenrir's already moving. "Ivar, bring the van around. We need to move him before someone sees."

"On it." Ivar jogs toward the garage.

"Tor, gather up those photos and documents," Runes orders. "Every last one."

"Where we taking him?" Emil asks, helping Dag lift Dylan's dead weight.

"The cabin," Runes decides. "The one up north. Nice and isolated."

I know the place—forty miles into the woods, no neighbors for miles, perfect for handling a situation just like this.

"I'll drive," I volunteer.

"No," Runes says firmly. "You stay here. Keep up appearances for a little while. Last thing we need is Everly worrying about where you've gone."

He's right, but it chafes.

I want to be there for whatever comes next.

Want to look Dylan in the eyes when he realizes exactly how badly he fucked up.

"I've got this," Dag assures me. "Been waiting to have a conversation with this piece of shit."

"Take Emil and Magnus," Runes adds. "Oskar, you follow in another vehicle in case there's trouble. Actually… Regnor, come over in about two hours. Spend some time with your girl first, calm her down."

The van appears, and we load Dylan's unconscious form into the back like luggage.

No ceremony, no care.

Just dead weight heading for judgment.

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