A cold line traces my spine. “Why?”
He hesitates again.
I reach out and gently tap two fingers under his jaw, a mockery of a tender touch. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
“They think the Raiders are… distracted,” he blurts. “With your boss out. They’re saying this is the time if they want ground. That Xavier might not…”
He stops himself, but the unfinished hangs heavy between us.
I step back before I do something that’ll make this floor hard to mop.
“Who’s ‘they’?” I ask.
“Just… people,” he stammers. “Guys at the shop. Street talk. No one important enough for names.”
He’s lying about that part. I clock it and file it away.
“You hear anybody mention deals?” I press. “Meetings. Or if they’re working with someone on our side?”
He looks like he’ll throw up. “No, sir. Just talk. That’s it.”
I stare him down for another long beat. His hands tremble around his empty glass.
“End of the week,” I say finally. “Like Xavier told you. You have it by then, or I come back, and I don’t bring up any ‘interest’ because there won’t be anything left worth charging.”
He nods too fast. “Yes. Yeah. End of the week. I swear.”
I turn, flicking my fingers at Dre to follow. As we step into the afternoon light, I feel the man’s exhale behind me, shaky and loud. I let him keep his relief.
For now.
We cross the parking lot toward the bikes. Dre glances over. “You believe him?”
“No,” I say. “But I believe he’s scared enough to be honest eventually.”
I swing a leg over my bike, the familiar weight of it settling under me. Dre does the same.
“You think the Vipers are really moving?” he asks.
The engine roars to life beneath me. I stare straight ahead, jaw clenched.
“I think,” I say, “if they smell blood, they’d be stupid not to.”
We ride.
The roads back to the Raider house blur, asphalt and old warehouses and the kind of empty lots where bad decisions get made. The whole time, something ugly coils tighter in my gut.
It’s one thing for us to be bleeding internally—moles, infighting, resentment that Valentina’s sitting on Xavier’s throne without having a patch of her own.
It’s another thing entirely for the Vipers to start circling.
By the time we pull into the yard, the sun’s starting to dip. The main building looms, all brick and stubbornness. Bikes line the front like a row of teeth.
Inside, the noise hits. Voices, laughter that’s a little too loud, the clack of pool balls, Jackie’s shout from somewhere in the back. It’s home. It’s restless.
I cut through the main room, nodding at a couple of the guys. Some nod back respectfully. Some glance away. One or two stare too long, the kind of look that says if Xavier doesn’t make it, they’re already picking a side.
I file those faces away, too.
