Page 46 of Sinful
Starla flinches at that. Elfe puts a hand on her mother's shoulder.
Helle still won't look up.
"Our options are limited," Runes says. "We can try to negotiate—offer them something else, someone else, anything to get Ivar back alive. Or we can go to war. Hit them hard enough they have to release him or risk losing everything."
"War's expensive," Damon says. "In men and money. But I didn't come here to negotiate with terrorists. I came here to plan how we're going to eradicate these motherfuckers once and for all."
"Agreed," Fenrir says. "But we need intelligence first. We need to know where they're holding him, how many men, what kind of security."
"That's where Helle comes in." Runes looks at her. "Tell them what you told us. About Andrés."
She finally looks up.
Her eyes are haunted. Guilty.
And when they land on me for half a second before skittering away, I see something else.
Fear.
"I dated him for three months," she says quietly. "Met him in sociology class at FSU. He said his name was Andrew. Andrew Martin. Said he was from Miami, studying business. We went on dates. Normal stuff—movies, restaurants, study sessions."
Her voice is flat. Reciting facts like they're happening to someone else.
"I didn't know he was Los Coyotes. Didn't know hewas using me. He asked questions—casual ones, I thought. About my family, about the club, about... things." She swallows hard. "I answered them. Because I trusted him. Because I thought he loved me."
The room is silent.
"He was gathering intel," she continued. "About shipments, about the cabin, about club operations. Using everything I told him. When Vanir traced the leak back to me, when Dad found out..." She trails off. "I left. That night. Went away and I haven't been back until now."
"The question is," Fenrir says, "what do you remember about him? Where he lived, who he mentioned, habits, anything that might tell us about Los Coyotes operations?"
Helle closes her eyes briefly. "He lived off campus. A house on Gaines Street, shared it with two other guys. He mentioned family in Juarez. A cousin who worked in 'import-export'—I didn't think anything of it at the time. He drove a black Ford F-150, always had cash, never used cards."
She's rattling off details like she's memorized them.
Like she's thought about this every day for three years.
"He got phone calls at weird hours. Always stepped away to take them, spoke Spanish. I picked up a few words—'producto,' 'envío,' 'el jefe.' Product, shipment, the boss." She opens her eyes. "He mentioned Sharp once. Said he was going to Texas for a business opportunity."
I tense.
Sharp. Where the Shotgun Saints are based.
"Did he say what kind of business?" Runes asks.
"No. But he was gone for two weeks. Came back with more money than usual." She looks at her mother. "That was right before everything fell apart. Right before Vanir figured out I was the leak."
So Andrés was scoping out Shotgun Saints territory three years ago.
This runs deeper than I thought.
"Anything else?" Damon asks. "Friends, contacts, anything?"
"Once I walked in while he was on the phone. He switched to English quick, but I heard a name—Sebastián. And the way he said it, there was fear in his voice. Real fear. I asked who it was and he said 'nobody, just work stuff.' I didn't push it."
She looks uncomfortable. "I looked up the name later, after everything fell apart. After I knew what he really was. Sebastián Salazar. El Azote. The Scourge." She shivers slightly. "Andrés was scared of him even back then."
"Fuck," Damon mutters. "So Andrés knew Sebastián was coming. Was probably reporting to him even then."
