Another pressure point.
The playbook repeats itself every time.
Different victims.
Same weapons.
I grab my phone and call Saint.
He answers on the first ring.
“They’re using the same leverage points every time,” I say.
Silence on the line for a moment.
“And?” he asks.
“And that means we can prove it.”
Another pause.
“And then what?”
I stare at the screen.
At the web of pressure tightening around Eagle River.
“Then we stop this from being a town problem,” I say.
“And turn it into a federal one.”
63
Laney
The Last Stand Tavern smells like lemon cleaner, coffee, and something fried.
It’s strange bringing a baby into a place that used to be loud and wild.
Back when the Rangers filled the bar with stories, laughter, and the kind of trouble that always started withone more drink.
Now the place feels different.
Quieter.
Sharper.
Like a fortress pretending to be a bar.
Wolf carries in a small crib and sets it up in the kitchen.
“Best room in the house,” he declares.
“Closest to food.”
Trigger installs cameras like he’s building a command center instead of a tavern.
One above the bar.
