“Not long,” Spade said.“Mercer knows we’re building a response.The distributor cancellation, the cops showing up, and the health inspection were opening moves.He’s preparing for whatever we bring next.He has legal authority and resources.We cannot afford even one mistake.”
The meeting turned into strategy.Brothers talked through every step.General took structured notes.Knuckles crafted security plans to protect Marci.Sarah and Nicole revealed Mercer’s patterns.
Eventually the table held a complete strategy on paper.Enough proof to bury Mercer, but not enough time to run everything through official systems before he struck again.
I looked across the table at Marci, saw her studying the evidence with fierce focus, and understood her thoughts even without words.
The war had started.
The only question remaining was how many people would fall before Mercer went down.
Chapter Nine
Ace
The phone rang sharp enough to slice through darkness and drag me out of the kind of dead sleep born from too many plans and not enough rest.Confusion pinned me for a second before the room came into focus.My bedroom.Marci beside me.She’d clung to me and begged me not to leave her alone tonight.Against my better judgment, I’d given in to her.
Three forty-seven on the clock.Nothing good ever followed a call at three forty-seven in the morning.
I grabbed the phone and forced a response through a raw throat.“Yeah?”
“Ace, Rebel here.The Spoke’s on fire.You need to get here now.”
Ice flooded every vein.I pushed away blankets and planted both feet on the floor before my mind fully caught up.“What?”
“Fire trucks are already here.Flames took over the whole back section.”
Marci sat up, her eyes wide and terrified.I pulled on jeans and snatched a shirt from the chair, my hands moving before any conscious thought formed.The Spoke.Burning.The back section where the office once held every file before we moved everything to the clubhouse yesterday.
“We’re going.”I ended the call.
“What happened?”Marci rushed to dress, fingers shaking.
“The bar’s on fire.”My boots went on without laces.“Move.”
Cold night air slammed into us as we burst through the door.An orange glow stained the sky in the distance, and smoke rose in a thick column visible from where we stood.
I sprinted to the truck.Marci climbed in and barely shut her door before I hit the gas.Empty streets left nothing between us and disaster.Every foot of road stretched longer than the last.We turned the corner, and the scene hit us all at once.
The Broken Spokeburned.
The back section blazed hardest, flames shooting through windows familiar enough to punch a hole in my chest.Black smoke climbed toward the clouds.Fire trucks surrounded the property, emergency lights flashing red and blue across asphalt and half-collapsed siding.Firefighters moved in a controlled sprint, hoses sweeping arcs of water that vanished in steam as soon as spray met flame.
I killed the engine and leapt out.Heat blasted across the parking lot in suffocating waves.Smoke clung to skin, clothes, lungs.The smell of burning wood mixed through chemicals and plastic until my eyes watered.
A cop raised a hand near the yellow line, posture spelling out one message -- stop or pay for crossing.
“My bar.My building.Tell me what happened.”
He stepped aside, understanding the pointlessness of stopping me.
I moved closer until the heat burned against my face.The back wall had folded in on itself, exposing blackened beams and twisted metal.Shelves, cabinets, furniture, office equipment, everything I’d relied on for seven years had collapsed into charred rubble.
Marci made a small broken sound, sharp enough to sink into my chest and stay there.Her hand covered her mouth while the flames’ reflection turned her eyes wet and wide.She understood.The office.The files I’d had with evidence against Mercer.I had to hope my brothers had an extra copy of what I’d been given.
A firefighter approached through haze, soot streaking his features.“You the owner?”
“Yeah.Manager.Ace Ardis.”
