Long table in the center, officers at the head.
Runes in the president's chair, Fenrir to his right as VP.
The other officers flanking them—Oskar, Magnus, Rati, Ivar, Logi, Dag, Vanir, and Aesir.
Full patches taking their seats along the sides.
I slip into my usual spot, trying not to look at Fenrir.
Trying not to think about the fact that I slept with his daughter last night.
That I've been in love with her for years.
That she ran from me this morning, and I don't know if she's ever coming back.
Fenrir glances my way, nods.
Normal.
Casual.
He doesn't know.
Thank fuck.
Runes calls the meeting to order with a sharp rap of his gavel.
"Appreciate everyone getting here fast," he starts. "Got some updates on club business, then we need to talk about something new that's come up."
He runs through the usual—gun shipment arriving next week, legitimate business profits from the auto shop we opened last month, and Magnus’ construction company that the club’s been expanding over the last eight months, and an upcoming run to Atlanta for a meeting with another club.
I try to focus.
Try to care about quarterly earnings and interstate relations.
But my mind keeps drifting.
Where is she right now?
Is she at home, hiding?
At work, pretending everything's normal?
With those friends of hers, getting validation from the wrong people?
"—which brings me to the main issue," Runes continues, pulling me back to the present. "Our guys on the street are hearing rumors. Child trafficking ring operating up North, just below the border."
The room goes dead silent.
Every man here has kids, or nieces, or nephews.
Every man here knows trafficking is a line you don't cross.
"Details," Magnus says, voice hard.
"Not much yet," Runes admits. "Whispers, mostly. But consistent whispers. Someone's moving kids through Tallahassee, maybe using the I-10 corridor. Young ones. Eight, nine, ten years old."
My stomach turns.
