Page 97 of Misery
The call ends.
Everyone starts talking at once. Strategies. Plans. Ideas that won't work because they're thinking like bikers, not like Thiago.
"He's going to make contact," I say, cutting through the noise. "Thiago. He'll reach out with demands."
"What kind of demands?" Tor asks.
"He wants Elfe. Everything else is just foreplay. The killing, the kidnapping, the games—it's all leading to her."
"Then maybe we give her to him," Dag suggests. "Trade straight up. Ivar for Elfe, or maybe act like we are and we can figure it out."
The room goes silent.
I'm moving before I think, knife in my hand, at Dag's throat.
The blade presses against his skin, not quite drawing blood but close enough he feels the promise. "Say that again," I whisper. "Give me a fuckin’ reason to go postal."
"Stand down!" Runes' voice cracks like a whip. "Both of you. Now."
I step back slowly, deliberately.
Dag rubs his throat, glaring.
There's fear in his eyes though. Good. He should be afraid.
"Nobody's giving anybody to anyone," Runes states firmly. "We don't trade innocents. Not how we operate. Not now, not ever."
"Then how the fuck do we get Ivar back?" Kraken asks, off the phone now. "If this psycho wants Elfe and we won't give her up?"
"We find leverage," Magnus says. "Something Thiago wants more than the girl."
"There's nothing he wants more than her," I say. "She's his obsession. His endgame. Everything else is just steps toward her. You don't understand—when we were kids, Thiago never did anything halfway. When he wanted something, he'd burn the world to get it."
"Then we find him and kill him," Rio suggests over speaker. He's still on the line, listening while he drives. "Simple. Clean."
"Nothing about Thiago is simple. He's smart. Trained. Knows how I think because we learned together." I run my hands through my hair, frustration building. "He's always three steps ahead because he knows what moves I'll make. What tactics I'll use. We shared everything growing up—fighting styles, strategies, ways of thinking."
"Then make different moves," Fenrir suggests. "Do what he doesn't expect."
"Like what?"
"Tell the truth. To everyone. Remove his leverage."
He's right. Fuck me, but he's right.
Thiago's power comes from secrets.
From knowing things others don't.
If everything's in the open, he loses that edge.
"Fine," I say. "You want truth? Here it is. Thiago Cisneros and I grew up together. Best friends from age seven. Did everything together. Learned to fight together. To steal. To hurt people who deserved it and some who didn't. We were inseparable. Blood brothers. Cut our palms when we were nine, mixed blood, swore we'd always have each other's backs."
I pause, pull out another cigarette. "When we were seventeen, he supposedly died in Mexico. But he didn't. He joined Los Coyotes, worked his way up, and came back here specifically for Elfe. He's been watching her for over a year. Living in the apartment above hers at her old building. Learning everything about her. Her schedule. Her habits. Her fears."
The room is silent. Processing.
"And you knew this?" Magnus asks.
