In the hallway, Sage pressed her back to the wall, every nerve on edge. She hadn’t meant to linger—just needed air, space away from the weight of two clubs in one room—but the voices carried through the wood.
“…missing twenty grand…”
“…rot…”
“…your daughter’s got bruises…”
Her stomach turned to ice. She closed her eyes, willing the words away, but they clung like smoke. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t just about her.
The club was bleeding from the inside.
---
Back in the room, Sanders spoke for the first time, his gravelly voice cutting through. “I’ve seen this before. Clubs don’t fall from bullets. They fall from within. You boys better decide real quick if you’re standing shoulder to shoulder, or pointing knives at each other.”
The room went still. Even Paul had no quick answer f
