(LANCE)
The cliffside safe house felt different in the quiet hours after the courtroom chaos. No gunfire. No roaring engines. Just the steady crash of the ocean and the low hum of the generator keeping the lights on. Eliona sat across from me at the old wooden table, a fresh cup of coffee between us, while my lawyer — Marcus Hale, the only attorney crazy enough to represent a biker president facing RICO charges — laid out the documents under the single hanging bulb.
“Walk me through it again,” I said, voice still rough from the hospital and the cliff. “I need to understand exactly what Elena bought us with her blood.”
Marcus adjusted his glasses and slid the plea agreement across the table.
“It’s a structured cooperation deal, not a full capitulation. Elena’s testimony is the cornersto
