My pulse kicks up a notch as I work the drawstring loose with fingers that suddenly don't feel quite steady. The mouth of the sack opens, and I tilt it toward the weak light coming from the security lights outside.
Stacks of twenties. Banded tight with those little paper wraps.
I dump the whole thing onto the mattress in front of me, watching the stacks tumble and scatter across the rumpled sheets. My hands move automatically, separating them, lining them up, fingers rifling through the edges to count. My brain's already doing the math before I'm halfway through.
Already know what the total's gonna be before I finish the last stack.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Exactly.
I count it again just to be sure. Separate the stacks. Hundreds mixed in with the twenties to make the math work.
$25,000.
My fine. My blood price. My Get-Out-of-Consequences-Free card.
There's a note in the bottom of the sack.
I unfold it.
Typed. Block letters. Nothing handwritten. Nothing that could be traced back to whoever put this here.
Three words:
GOT YOU TOMORROW.
I stare at it.
Read it again.
Got you tomorrow.
Could mean: I've got your back. I'm covering you. You're safe because someone paid your debt.
Could mean: I've got you trapped. You owe me now. This isn't freedom—it's a different kind of leash.
Could mean: I've got plans for you. This money buys your life, but it also buys your loyalty. And you'll pay it back in ways you won't see coming until it's too late.
Could mean: I've got faith in you. Fight tomorrow. Survive tomorrow. This is just the first move in a longer game.
Could mean: I've got nothing to lose. If you go down, I go down. So here's a lifeline. Use it or don't—but know that someone's willing to burn their own resources to keep you breathing.
I turn the note over.
Nothing on the back.
No signature. No clue.
Just those three words that could be salvation or damnation depending on who left them.
Diesel?
He said he had my back. But twenty-five grand is serious money. More than most brothers keep liquid. More than you hand over without expecting something in return.
Savannah?
She's got access to that kind of cash. But she doesn't know about the fine. I didn't tell her. Didn't want to drag her into club business.
