Page 50 of Mortify

Dylan was here for a reason.

Taking photos of us, of what we did.

Question is, why?

What's his angle?

Blackmail? Evidence for cops? Or something else?

"Found something interesting in the house," Magnus calls out. "Computers are intact, but there's more. Filing cabinets full of shit."

We head back inside where Magnus has several drawers open, papers scattered across a desk. "Look at this," he says, holding up a folder. "Financial records. The Patriot's been keeping detailed books."

"Idiot," Tor mutters, but he's already photographing pages with his phone. "This could lead us to his entire network."

"There's more," Magnus continues. "Looks like he's been working with someone local. Multiple references to 'DM' receiving payments."

DM.

Dylan Mitchell?

No, that's crazy.

I'm being paranoid. Lots of people have those initials.

But I can't shake the image of him with that camera, the calculated way he documented everything.

"Bag it all," Fenrir orders. "We'll go through it back at the clubhouse."

The ride back feels off, even though we were somewhat successful.

We destroyed tons of product, killed at least a dozen of Patriot's men, seized computers and records that might have intel.

But the man himself escaped, and Rati's riding in a cage to get patched up, maybe fighting for his life.

The trafficking victims follow in a van, Aesir staying with them.

They'll need medical attention, trauma counseling, probably rehab for whatever drugs the Patriot had them on.

Another mess to clean up, more innocent lives he's destroyed.

At the clubhouse, I catch Tor alone while others are celebrating.

Half the brothers are already drunk, toasting our victory, but it doesn't feel like a victory to me.

We still have to get this fucking bastard.

"Need to tell you something," I say quietly. "That looky-loo I saw? Wasn't random."

His eyes sharpen. "Who?"

"Dylan Mitchell. Everly's ex."

"The fuck was he doing there?"

"Taking pictures. Had a professional camera, was focused on us, not the burning buildings."

Tor's expression darkens. "That's not good. How'd he even know about the run?"

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