“WHERE DID this come from?”
Ronan held the envelope between two fingers like it might bite him.
The clubhouse was quiet for a late afternoon. Most of the guys were out on runs or scattered around town. Only Ayden sat at the long table with him, cleaning a handgun that did not need cleaning.
The envelope had no stamp. No return address. No name.
Just thick white paper and a weight inside that felt wrong.
Ayden glanced up. “Gate camera showed a courier van. Generic logo. Guy dropped it and left.”
Ronan flipped it over. The seal was already broken. “So somebody wanted it opened fast.”
“Looks that way.”
For a few seconds Ronan only stared at it. Instinct told him not to like this. Instinct told him nothing good ever arrived unannounced and anonymous.
He slid two fingers inside and pul
