Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tor
The heavy oak door of kirkja slams shut behind me, the sound echoing through the sacred space.
The air is thick with tension and the lingering scent of leather and motor oil from our recent run.
My brothers file in, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
I take my usual seat at the long table, my fingers tracing the intricate knotwork Magnus carved into the wood.
Runes, my father and our President, settles into his chair at the head of the table.
His weathered hands grip the axe-shaped gavel, Viking runes glinting on its handle.
With a sharp crack, he brings it down, silencing the low murmur of conversation.
"What's so important we have to interrupt dinner to meet?” He growls, his steely gaze fixed on Fenrir.
I lean forward, my heart rate picking up.
This is important, and soon enough my father will find that out.
Fenrir clears his throat, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by something more grave. "We've got a situation brewing, brothers. One that could change everything for us."
The room falls silent, the weight of his words settling over us like a heavy blanket.
I glance around at my brothers, noting the subtle shifts in their postures—backs straightening, jaws tightening.
We're all on high alert now.
"Don't keep us in suspense, brother," Kraken rumbles from across the table. "Spit it out."
Fenrir nods, taking a deep breath before launching into his explanation.
As he speaks, laying out the details of what transpired earlier, I feel a knot forming in my gut as I wait to hear what my father's going to say.
This is big—bigger than anything we've faced recently.
My mind whirls, anxiously awaiting.
A potential new prospect, one with insider information that could give us a major advantage.
But also one who's putting a target on his back—and ours—by aligning with us.
As Fenrir finishes speaking, the room erupts into a symphony of voices, each brother voicing their opinion on the matter.
I remain silent, watching my father's face for any hint of what he's thinking.
"Enough," He commands, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "We need to approach this carefully. Ivar, what's your read on the situation?"
Ivar, our Road Captain, leans back in his chair, his face thoughtful. "It's a risk, no doubt about it. But the potential payoff..." He shakes his head. "It could be exactly what we need to finally get the upper hand."
I nod in agreement, my thoughts aligning with Ivar's assessment.
It's a dangerous game we're considering playing, but sometimes the biggest risks yield the greatest rewards.
Dad turns to me next, his eyes searching mine. "What about you, son? What do you think?"
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, aware of the weight of my words in this moment. "I think we need to give him a shot," I say finally, my voice steady despite the churning in my gut. "All of us have gotten one chance at some point. If we don't give him this opportunity, we might be signing his death warrant."
The room falls silent as my words sink in.
I can see the conflict playing out on my brothers' faces—the desire for the advantage this could give us warring with the inherent danger of bringing an outsider into our fold.
He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "All right," he says, his voice carrying the finality of a decision made. "We'll put it to a vote. All in favor of bringing this Rio in as a prospect and offering protection to his family, say 'aye'."
A chorus of 'ayes' fills the room, including my own.
As the sound fades, I can't help but wonder if we've just set something in motion that we won't be able to control.
"It's settled then," Dad declares, bringing the gavel down once more. "Now, we need to figure out the logistics. Vanir, can you get us a number for this Rio?"
Vanir, our tech guru, nods. "Sure thing, Prez. Just need his full name."
I can't help but chuckle. "Shit, I don't think any of us thought to exchange numbers in all the chaos."
Ivar pipes up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've got you covered. Took a pic of his license earlier. Full name's Rio Rojas, and he's got a place in Providence."
Vanir's eyebrows shoot up. "Damn, Ivar. You got all that from a license?"
Ivar's smirk widens into a full grin. "No shit, there's an address right on it. Already verified it's legit, too."
I shake my head, impressed as all shit.
Sometimes I forget just how thorough Ivar can be.
Dad clears his throat, drawing our attention back to the matter at hand. "So, what exactly is Rio doing for us? We need details if we're going to make this work."
Fenrir leans forward, his expression serious. "He's playing the Patriot like a fiddle right now. Says the bastard meets his dealers every day at some rundown house in Betton Hills."
I can see the wheels turning in my father's head. "We need that address," he says, his voice low and determined. "And we need to move fast."
A murmur of agreement ripples through the room.
The energy has shifted—we're no longer just discussing possibilities.
We're making a fucking action plan.
"Hold up," I interject, aware of the risk of speaking out but unable to stay silent. "We need to make sure we get solid intel from Rio before we jump into anything. We can't afford to go in half-cocked."
Dad nods, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Tor's right. We can't jump the gun on this. We need to play it smart."
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly.
It's always a relief when my father agrees with me, especially in front of the club.
"What about Rio's family?" I ask, remembering the mention of a girlfriend and child. "Are we bringing them in?"
Dad considers for a moment before nodding. "They can stay at the clubhouse until things blow over. It's the safest place for them right now."
I nod, thinking of the empty rooms down the hall.
It's not ideal, but it's better than leaving them exposed to potential retaliation.
"All right," Dad says, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "We need eyes on Rio tonight. Tor, you and Magnus head over to his place. Make sure he knows we're serious about this arrangement and see what he’s found out."
I nod, already mentally preparing for the task ahead.
It's going to be a long night, but if it means keeping the club safe and getting an edge on our enemies, it'll be worth it.
As the meeting breaks up, I catch Magnus' eye across the room.
We've worked together countless times before, but something tells me this night is going to be different.
The ride to Rio's place is tense, the cool night air doing little to calm my racing thoughts.
Magnus and I don't speak much, both of us too focused on what lies ahead.
As we pull up to the address Ivar provided, I kill the engine of my bike, the sudden silence almost deafening.
"You ready for this?" Magnus asks, his voice low.
I nod, my jaw set. "Let's do it."
We make our way inside, using the skills we've honed over years in the club to enter undetected.
The house is dark and quiet, no sign of Rio yet.
We settle in to wait, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness.
Finally, we hear the sound of a key in the lock.
I tense, ready for action.
As Rio steps inside and flicks on the light, Magnus and I move as one, stepping out of the shadows.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Rio yelps, stumbling back against the wall. "What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"
I can't help but smirk, even as I raise my hands in a placating gesture. "Easy, brother," I say, my voice calm despite the tension crackling in the air. "We've got some shit to handle."
Rio's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath.
His eyes dart between Magnus and me, a mixture of fear and anger evident in his expression.
"You couldn't have just called?" he snaps, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, man. I thought I was about to get whacked."
I step forward, my stance relaxed but alert. "We needed to be sure you were alone. Can't risk the wrong ears overhearing our conversation."
Rio nods, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Fair enough. So, what's this about?"
I lock eyes with him, searching for any hint of deception. "What happened with the Patriot tonight?"
For a split second, I see a flicker of something—surprise? worry?—in Rio's eyes.
But it's gone so quickly I can't be sure.
He takes a deep breath and launches into his story. "Man, you're not gonna believe this. The Patriot's got big plans. He's meeting with another supplier in two days. They're talking about cutting the product even more."
As Rio speaks, I can't help but marvel at the detail in his story.
Either he's one hell of a liar, or he's giving us exactly what we need.
"This new cut," I interject, "what does it mean for profits?"
Rio's eyes light up. "That's the kicker. We're talking serious cash here. The Patriot's looking at doubling, maybe even tripling his take."
I nod, encouraging him to continue.
Meanwhile, my mind races.
If this is true, it could be the break we've been waiting for.
A chance to hit the Patriot where it hurts most—his wallet.
"When and where is this meet going down?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.
"Two days from now, midnight at the docks," Rio replies without hesitation.
I pull out my phone, typing out a quick message to my father.
As I hit send, a sense of anticipation courses through me.
We're going to fuck up the Patriot's plans, and we're going to do it fast.
"You did good, Rio," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. "But remember, you're walking a thin line here. One misstep and it's not just your ass on the line."
Rio nods solemnly. "I know. Trust me, I know exactly what I'm risking."
I speak up, warning him. “Call your girl and tell her to head over to the clubhouse. We’re gettin’ a room ready for her and your little one. Start packin’ some of your shit, man, and do it fast. Once we pop up in a couple of days, he’s gonna know someone flipped on him.”