~TORIN~
I wasn’t meeting a friend. I was meeting a rat. One of Dillon’s.
The Sons of Morning Star had gone underground after Stye died. Scatter. Rebrand. Shift. That’s what men like Dillon did. They didn’t retreat. They adapted. Survival wasn’t optional in that world. It was instinct.
I used to know every hideout. Every fallback location. Every stash house with warped floorboards and false walls. I’d helped build some of them. Laid the drywall. Dug the trenches. Memorized which doors stuck in winter and which windows you could slip through without breaking skin.
I’d known where the guns were buried, where the cash was layered inside insulation. Where the bodies were supposed to disappear. That knowledge expired the second Dillon took the gavel.
He’d changed things. Changed routes. Cha
