Page 13 of Hidden

“…I’m not interested in dragging this out,” he was saying, his voice calm, measured, carrying easily across the room without ever needing to rise. “Harley had his way of doing things. He would play around with negotiations and compromises. I say, fuck that shit. We won’t be pussyfooting around with people who would slit your throat the second your back was turned. I think we can all agree, if throats are being slit, we’ll be the ones to do the slicing.”

A few of the men chuckled at that, nodding in agreement.

Nico didn’t smile. He rarely did. Not unless it was at someone else’s misfortune.

“If you ask me, the truce was a mistake from the start. A temporary fix to a permanent problem. And I don’t do temporary.”

He tapped ash into the tray in front of him, his gaze flicking briefly around the table, gauging reactions, weighing loyalty.

Always calculating.

“Didn’t you agree to the truce?” his VP asked. I held my breath, waiting for Nico to explode. But he simply smirked.

“I agreed to get them off our fucking backs. I was left to walk into the basement, knowing there was only one way I was getting out alive. We were sloppy. But we all knew we weren’t going to be abiding by their rules. They ask for too much.” His eyes flicked backward toward me then, and I forced—no,demanded—my face remain passive and neutral.

I knew the agreement. I knew Vienna had asked for updates on my health and well-being. Not once had Nico ever given it. And it just left me with questions.

Why had Vienna done that? Why now, after all these years? What had changed?

We had been okay with the way things were. For over ten years, our contact had been minimal. I knew he waited outside my bedroom every night, and I always flicked the light to show him I was okay. But he had never pushed for more. He had never tried to contact me.

And then Dante had met his old lady, and everything had changed.

Vienna grew bolder. His nightly stalking was done closer—no longer content to be on the edges, he sometimes appeared right outside my window. He tried to speak to me. He once tried to drag me back to the Devil’s clubhouse with his brothers.

Why was he doing this now? Especially with Nico in charge. Nico would never, ever let me leave here alive.

“They’ve had their chance,” Nico continued almost lazily, bringing my attention back to him. “We gave them our terms, and they were pretty fucking simple. Stay out of our business, we stay out of theirs. But they’ve been pushing. Testing boundaries. Seeing what they can get away with.”

His lips curved then, but there was no humour in it.

“I don’t like being tested.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

I kept my face blank, my breathing even, but my fingers tightened slightly where they were clasped together.

The truce is over.

He didn’t need to say the words outright. It was there in everything else. In the shift of tone. In the way the men leaned forward, attention sharpening.

Nico straightened slightly in his chair, his gaze drifting, almost absentmindedly, until it landed on me.

My spine locked.

“Every single one of us is sick of the Disciples,” he said, his words an unspoken test. “And it’s time we dealt with it. They seem to have forgotten their place. They got away with too muchwhen Harley was in charge. Now it’s time to remind them that we are not just rivals. The Riders are superior in every way—numbers, strength, cunning. We take back what Harley gave to them.”

A few of the men laughed again, louder this time.

“They’ve been sniffing around,” one of them added. “Asking questions. Poking their noses where they don’t belong.”

“I’m aware,” Nico replied smoothly. “And we’ll be dealing with it.”

He let that hang for a moment, the promise sitting heavy in the air.

Dealing with it.

My stomach twisted.