Page 101 of Monk

I shook my head once, jaw tight enough to ache. “No clue. But he was serious.” I looked around the room. “I’ve been around that motherfucker long enough to know when he’s bluffing. This time he’s not. He thinks he has leverage, and if he’s got a body, he’s gonna use it to force me back under.”

Widow’s voice cut through the silence like a blade being drawn. “That motherfucker needs to die.”

Every eye in the room turned toward him. Widow didn’t blink. Didn’t back off. He just sat there, cold and steady and absolutely certain.

Kansas scrubbed both hands down his face like he was trying to wipe the whole mess off his skin, stood, and then started pacing.

No one said a word. We just watched him.

Back and forth. To the end of the table and back again as his fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders were tight and his jaw was locked so hard it looked painful.

The room felt smaller with every pass. Hotter. Meaner.

Like it was closing in around us.

Finally, he stopped and looked at each of us in turn.

When he spoke, his voice was flat. “We’re fucked.”

No one argued because no one could.

“This shit could not have happened at a worse time,” Kansas said, his voice rough now, fraying at the edges. “Especially not with the meet next weekend with Benedict.”

Blackjack gave a grim nod. “We’re already fractured after Pence’s execution. We broke with the Federation, so they won’thelp. Now Roberts is threatening to expose us, Ruby’s missing, and Monk’s got a rape charge hanging over his head.”

“Not to mention the mystery corpse Roberts somehow has his hands on,” Widow added.

Kansas’ mouth flattened into a dark line. “Yeah. That too.”

Shadow pushed off the wall then, his voice calm in a way that made it sound even more dangerous. “Give me twenty-four hours, Kansas,” he said. “I’ll find Ruby.”

Kansas looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You sure?”

Shadow didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” Then, quieter: “And when I find her, I’ll get the truth out of her.”

There was something in the way he said it that made the room go still all over again.

Kansas stared at him for a long moment, then gave one sharp nod. “Alright.”

He went back to the head of the table and lowered himself into his chair. Slow. Controlled. Deliberate. Like the room had shifted, and now every move mattered more as he folded his hands in front of him again.

The room waited and no one moved. No one breathed too loud.

When Kansas finally spoke, his voice was steady. Certain. Cold enough to raise the dead. “Alright,” he said again. “This is what we’re gonna do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Monk

The ride to the Wilcox Farm should have cleared my head. It should have given me time to think, to process, to calm the fuck down. But it didn’t. Every mile I rode, the tension coiled tighter in my chest. Roberts’ smug face. Ruby’s accusations. The mystery body. Lina’s coldness. It was all converging, pressing down on me like a vise, and the only thing I knew, the only thing I was certain of, was that I needed to see her.

Needed to touch her.

Needed to remind both of us that no matter what shit was falling apart around us,wewere solid.

The farm came into view, the long gravel driveway stretching out ahead of me, and that was when I saw them. Lina, who was standing in the driveway near the house, and a man. Slick suit. Expensive shoes. Briefcase in one hand.

The fucking developer.