Tommy stumbles but catches himself, a sneer twisting his face despite the blood trickling from his split lip.
"You're dead men," he says. "Both of you. All of you. Vulture's gonna string you up by your balls."
I tighten my grip on his arm, twisting just enough to make him wince. "Keep your mouth shut unless you want to lose some teeth."
The sounds of battle echo through the building. Gunfire, shouting, the occasional explosion as the Eagles deploy more breaching charges. The fight's not going their way. Our defensive positions are holding, our brothers driving them back wherever they breach. But it's far from over.
"You think you're winning?" Tommy laughs, a sharp, unhinged sound. "This is just the first wave. Vulture's called in every Eagle from three states. They'll be pouring in all night. By morning, there won't be a Savage Rider left breathing."
Beast grunts from behind us. "Shut him up, brother. Getting tired of his voice."
"You hear that?" Tommy continues, ignoring the warning. "That's the sound of your club dying. Your brothers bleeding out. And after we're done with them, we're coming for the women. That blonde bitch of mine is gonna pay for running. Someone saw her riding with one of you. I know she’s here. Gonna make her watch while I—"
My fist connects with his kidney before he can finish. Tommy doubles over, gasping, and I use the moment to shove him against the wall, forearm pressed against his throat.
"One more word about her," I say, my voice deadly quiet, "and I'll cut out your fucking tongue before we even get to the chapel. Understand?"
Fear flickers across his face before the sneer returns. He nods slightly against the pressure of my arm. I ease off just enough to let him breathe and continue moving him forward. King wants information, which means we need this piece of shit alive and talking. For now.
"Contact, three o'clock," Beast warns suddenly, raising his weapon.
Two Eagles appear at the end of the corridor, spotting us immediately. They open fire without hesitation, bullets splintering the wall beside us.
I drag Tommy down behind a storage cabinet, using his body as partial cover while Beast returns fire. The sharp crack of his shotgun drowns out Tommy's curses.
One Eagle drops, chest blown open by Beast's shot. The other dives for cover, still firing in our direction.
"Move," I order, hauling Tommy back to his feet and pushing him forward in a crouching run. We need to get to the chapel—more defensible position, better odds.
Tommy tries to break my grip as we run, twisting violently.
"Vulture!" he shouts, his voice echoing down the hallway. "East corridor! They've got me! East corridor!"
I slam his face into the wall, silencing him, but the damage is done. He's given away our position, our direction.
"Faster," Beast urges from behind us. "That asshole just rang the dinner bell."
We pick up the pace, half-dragging Tommy as his feet scramble to keep up. The chapel is just ahead. Double doors, reinforced after our last run-in with a rival club. I can see Tank positioned inside, providing cover as we approach.
A burst of gunfire erupts from behind us. Beast grunts, stumbling forward.
"Beast!" I call, unable to look back while maintaining my grip on Tommy.
"Keep going," he growls. "Just clipped me. I'm good."
We reach the chapel doors, Tank covering our entry with sustained fire down the corridor. Once inside, I shove Tommy into a chair, zip-tying his hands to the armrests while Tank secures the doors.
Beast slumps against the wall, examining his arm. The bullet grazed his bicep, leaving a bloody furrow but nothing life-threatening.
"Patch kit in the corner," Tank tells him, nodding toward a first aid box mounted on the wall.
King emerges from the adjoining room, his cold blue eyes taking in the scene. "Report."
"Prisoner secure," I say. "Beast took a graze. Eagles know we're here. This asshole shouted our position."
King's expression hardens as he approaches Tommy. "How many men did you bring?"
Tommy spits blood onto the floor. "Enough to kill every last one of you."
