Eli Mercer jerks upright beside the bed, one hand braced on the mattress, the other stabbing at a loose floorboard. His breath comes in ragged pulls. Murderbone plants himself between Eli and Dallas, a low growl rolling out like thunder in a narrow room.

He drops to his knees and works the board with shaking fingers. The old wood lifts a fraction, exposing a dark slit and a flash of paper tucked inside. The motel room feels smaller for it, all torn curtains and broken plaster watching back.

Eli freezes with the paper half-reached for, eyes flicking from Murderbone to Dallas. His face folds into fear, then calculation, as he realizes the dog is not bluffing.

Dallas takes one step in, and the room seems to contract around the sound of his shoes. Eli's hand shakes as he reaches deeper into the gap beneath the floorboard.

Eli flinches, then yanks free a damp paper packet and presses it into Dallas's hand like it burns him. Murderbone's growl eases by a fraction, but his eyes stay locked on Eli.

Dallas folds back the packet just enough to check the contents. Receipts, names, and a motel key slip out together, all stamped and stained from the hidden space below the boards.

A wet creak comes from the hallway outside, faint but deliberate. Murderbone turns his head toward the door, muscles tightening again as Eli stares past Dallas, pale with fresh fear.