“Good call,” Mason replies. “Make sure they know what they’re dealing with. I don’t want anyone walking into this blind.”
“They’ll know,” I say. “I’ll tell them before we roll.”
“Good,” Mason says again, and I can hear the decision already locked in. “See you there.”
The line goes dead, and for a second I just stare at my phone before turning back to Blade and Switch.
“Whole club’s activated,” I say. “Mason’s calling everyone in, but sending Razor to guard the girls with Ghost. Riot rides with us so he can find this mother fucker with all his technology witchcraft.”
Blade exhales slowly, the kind of breath you take when you’re about to do something ugly but necessary. “Good.”
“Ghost and Razor won’t let anyone near the house.” Switch adds.
Blade nods once, sharp and final. “Nobody gets near them. Nobody.”
“Obviously,” Switch says.
Blade’s screen lights up in his hand and he glances at it. “Mason’s already headed to the clubhouse.”
Switch lifts his head, eyes going hard. “Then we roll.”
I hesitate, just for half a second, and Blade catches it immediately. “You don’t want to leave her,” he says quietly.
“No,” I answer, just as quiet and a hell of a lot more honest. “I really don’t.”
Switch’s voice drops, not soft, but steady. “But you will.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I will. Because this ends tonight.”
Blade pushes off the wall and straightens, shifting into business like a switch just flipped in his head. “The next problem is finding Whitaker.”
“I’m on it,” Riot says, already pulling his phone out, his thumb moving fast across the screen. “Guy like that isn’t laying low. He’s either drinking somewhere expensive or sitting in some downtown condo he thinks nobody knows about.”
“And he’s not keeping his head down,” I add. “He’s gonna be acting like he didn’t just try to ruin someone’s life.”
Blade’s eyes go dark, his mouth tightening like he’s already picturing what comes next. “Not for long.”
Riot doesn’t even look up. “I’ll run plates, business addresses, property records, and anything tied to his LLCs. He’s got money, which means he’s got a trail. Nobody with that kind of lifestyle disappears.”
Switch snorts. “Music to my ears.”
Riot finally lifts his gaze, eyes sharp and focused. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll have somewhere we can start knocking.”
“We don’t move without Mason’s word,” Blade says. “This isn’t three pissed-off bikers running hot. This is Iron Reapers' business.”
And that matters. It changes the rules, shifts the weight of what comes next, because once the club gets involved this stops being revenge and starts being a message.
I glance back toward the living room door, like I can see through it, like I can still feel her fingers gripping my shirt.
“She’s barely holding it together,” I say quietly. “We keep this clean. No trail back to her. No cops. No bullshit that comes back on her or her sisters.”
Switch nods. “She doesn’t get touched again. Ever.”
Blade’s voice is flat and lethal. “Whitaker just made himself a lesson.”
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Mason: Everyone en route. Clubhouse. Now.
