“Phantom?”
“In the flesh.” My club sister plopped her ass down in a chair as she glared daggers at Pops. “That fucking asshole Stone just arrived. He’s dropping his shit in his room.”
“What Stone?” I asked.
“Arizona, Montana’s brother,” Phantom sneered.
Shaking my head, I balled my fist tight and growled, “What the fuck is going on here? How are all of you alive?”
Leaning back in his chair, Pops sighed. “What’s going on is a war that started long before most of you were born. A war that’s finally coming to a head, and unless everyone involved is on the same page, it’s going to be a war we will lose.”
Before Pops could explain more, the door opened, and in walked Arizona Stone, and a man that had Nav pushing off the back wall. “You’re dead, motherfucker!”
“Hey, Nav. Miss me?” The man smiled, right before Nav punched him in the face.
Jumping from my seat, I grabbed Nav as he shouted, “You let those sick fucks take Banshee! They almost killed him!”
Rubbing his chin, the brother got in Nav’s face. “Like you all left me to die in that fucking warehouse? Fuck you, Nav. I did what I had to do. I pushed him off the road so he couldn’t follow me. It would have blown my cover. I didn’t know they were behind us. I’d already saved his ass once. Do you really fucking think I would have left my brother there? This shit, this war, is bigger than any of us. So stop being a fucking pussy and listen!”
“Fuck you, Chasm!”
“No, fuck you!”
“ENOUGH!” Pops bellowed loudly. “Both of you, sit the fuck down and listen. I don’t have time for this shit.”
Taking our seats, Pops looked at Sypher, who nodded, opened his laptop, and began speaking. “I know why you are here, Ravage. We all do. Since being here, I’ve learned things.Things that will reshape the Biker Federation. But for right now, you need to know that Karlyn is being hunted. Not only by Satan’s Angels and the Death Dogs, but also by a serial killer. A man named Karl Ingalls Sr.”
“Her dad?” I gasped, leaning forward in my seat.
Sypher shook his head. “Karl Sr. isn’t Karlyn’s biological father. Joel Johnson is her father, but you knew him as Knuckles, the former vice president of Satan’s Angels and Karl Sr.’s butt partner. When Ink walked into his father’s office that day and saw Knuckles fucking his dad, Ink did the world a great favor by killing Knuckles. But he also inadvertently created a monster no one foresaw.”
“Why does he want to kill Karlyn?”
Sypher shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. It doesn’t make sense, and the RCPD has classified him as a serial killer, so who the fuck knows? So far, he’s killed almost every member of Knuckles’ family. The only two left are Karlyn and Kyllian.”
“Firestride’s woman?”
Sypher nodded. “Yeah.”
Shaking his head, Nav muttered, “That makes no sense, Sypher. Kyllian’s mother is Kaylah Russell, Banshee’s missing sister, and Kyllian’s father is Steele, the president of my club. There is no blood relationship to Knuckles.”
“I know,” the kid said, leaning back. “Like I said, it makes no sense.”
Trying to steer the conversation back to what I cared about, I asked, “What about the Death Dogs and Satan’s Angels? Indigo told me he barely got to Karlyn in time, and when they were heading to Diamond Creek, Satan’s Angels showed up as well. If it weren’t for the Brotherhood, my woman and two of my brothers would be dead.”
“Tell him.” Pops glared at Sypher.
“The reason everyone wants Karlyn is because of who she represents. Karlyn’s mother is Janelle Peterson, the daughter of Samuel Peterson, the televangelist who married Kathryn Cussler, the granddaughter of Joshua Cussler, and the founder of the Disciples of the Word, who just happens to be one of the original seven members who founded the California Chapter of the Golden Skulls. But more importantly, they want Karlyn to bring Montana to heel, because Karlyn is...”
“My niece,” Chasm interrupted. “My real name is Jude Peterson. Janelle is my sister. My brother is Justin Peterson, who you know as Shame. My niece is being hunted because of what we did.”
Slowly getting to my feet, I snarled at the soon-to-be-dead fucker. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Justin and I killed Cordell James, the founder of the Satan’s Angels.”
Pops’ eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone as he leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “The world was different back then, Jackson. We all crossed lines that shouldn’t have been crossed. We didn’t think about consequences, only actions,” he said, voice low and rough. “We thought we were doing the right thing—protecting our own, keeping secrets buried. But every choice comes due, and now Karlyn is paying the price for sins she never committed.” His gaze drifted toward mine, and I could see the memories he dared name aloud haunted him.
Pops’ jaw clenched, the tension between us almost tangible. For a moment, no one spoke, each of us grappling with the new reality—Karlyn wasn’t just a target because of her bloodline, but because of old grudges and debts that went deeper than club loyalty. The sins of the past had come back to haunt all of them, and it was clear that this war was about more than just territoryor vengeance—it was about family, legacy, and the choices that defined them.
