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“I guess all that is left is to put it to a vote,” she mumbled after several minutes passed.

“Hmm, this will be interesting, if nothing else. When are we doing it?”

“Tonight. Marcel said he would make it happen. He’s been waiting for me to break the news to you first. To ensure you’d travel there with me.”

The amber liquid swirled in my glass, catching the dim light as I stared into it. I was lost in thought, and the chatter of the club faded into static. It was getting late. I should be home, yet I remained anchored to the barstool.

I took a long sip. The whiskey burned a familiar path down my throat. The music changed, and the bass rolled through the floor. It vibrated up through the soles of my boots. Allison swayed under the lights, her body catching every flicker of neon and shadow.

The crowd watched, hungry and predictable. It should’ve been enough. It always had been. But everything was off. I took another sip, letting the burn settle, hoping it would take the edge off, maybe pull me back from the darkness.

It didn’t.

My gaze drifted, not really seeing the stage any more. The club was full tonight. Money was flowing and the music hit. Everything was working the way we envisioned. So why the hell did it feel so empty?

I exhaled through my nose, tightening my grip slightly around the glass before forcing it to ease. This sensation wasn’t new. It had been creeping in more and more lately. The anniversary of Vanya’s death used to knock me off balance for a day or two at most.

This time, the shit lingered. A part of me wondered if it was here to stay. Back when she first ran away, it was this intense. Life had a way of moving on, and I was swept along with it. Back then it was easier to throw myself into new experiences—the club—rescues.

But life had become routine, and there was nothing new to quiet the pain. I muttered under my breath, pushing off the bar.

That was when I felt it. A shift. It wasn’t the music or the crowd this time. It was something subtle and wrong. My head lifted, eyes scanning the room on instinct. And then I saw them.

What the fuck?

Alek, Nik, Ivan, and Marcel. All four of them were standing just inside the entrance. My chest tightened. The girls were absent, so this wasn’t a drop in for a night of indulgence. Just the four of them.

Alek’s eyes found mine across the room, unreadable in that way of his that always meant things were already in motion. My grip tightened around the glass again before I set it down harder than necessary.

“Fuck my life…” I muttered, already moving.

By the time I reached them, Nik had that half-smirk in place, Ivan looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and Marcel—

Marcel was watching me too closely. Alek didn’t waste time.

“We need to talk. Family meeting,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t asking or suggesting.

My jaw ticked. “Family meeting? Seems we are four members short for that.”

“If it’s all the same. This is important.”

“Here?” I glanced around. The noise, the bodies, the chaos of it all suddenly seemed too loud.

“With you avoiding home lately, seemed appropriate.”

Dread slid into place beneath my ribs. This wasn’t Death Squad business. It certainly wasn’t club business, so that meant… My thoughts snapped to my baby sister before I could stop them.

“Bella?” The name came out sharper than I intended.

No one answered immediately. That told me everything I needed to know. I grabbed Alek by the shirt.

“What the fuck happened to her?”

“Calm down, Brother. She’s fine.” Marcel stepped between us.

I released Alek, and he smirked at me before straightening his shirt. Turning, I didn’t wait to see if they followed. Once the door shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the club, it was like a switch had been pulled.