Her fingers squeeze mine one last time. “Be careful.”
That nearly breaks me, but I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead instead, slow and steady. “Always am, Princess. Especially when it’s for you.”
Then I stand, because if I don’t leave right now, I’m not sure I will at all.
Blade’s already at the door, Switch right behind him, both of them looking like they’re heading into war.
And I’m right there with them.
The clubhouse is already packedwhen we roll in.
Bikes line the lot, engines still ticking as they cool, and the second we step inside, I feel it. That shift. That charged, electric quiet that only happens when church gets called fast and nobody’s laughing.
Riot comes in right behind us, laptop tucked under one arm, eyes already scanning the room like he’s clocking exits and faces at the same time. He drops into the chair at the table without a word and flips the screen open, fingers moving before Mason even starts talking.
The officers are already seated. Mason at the head, Blade and Switch taking their spots, with Dagger, Tank, and Piston filling in the rest. The other brothers line the walls, lean against pool tables and support beams, arms crossed, faces hard, waiting.
Nobody’s here by accident. Everybody knows something went down.
Mason waits until the last man is inside, then plants his hands on the table. The room goes dead silent.
“Tonight, one of our own was attacked,” he says, voice calm but heavy as hell. “Brooke Calloway. Bella and Bri’s sister. Iron Reapers family.”
A low, dangerous murmur moves through the room, like thunder rolling in.
“She got away, and she’s safe right now,” Mason continues. “But that doesn’t change what happened, and it damn sure doesn’t change what comes next.”
My jaw tightens, heat crawling up my spine.
“This wasn’t random,” Mason says. “This was a man who knew who thought he could do whatever he wanted without consequences.”
He pauses, letting that sink in. “That was a mistake.”
Nobody argues. Nobody even breathes. Mason turns his head toward Riot. “Let us know when you’ve got something.”
Riot doesn’t even look up from the screen. “I’ve got something.”
That gets everyone’s attention. “Already?” Dagger says, brows lifting.
Riot finally lifts his eyes. “Yeah. I ran his license plate through city traffic cams and parking sensors as soon as Rev gave me the name. Tracked his route after he left the overlook.”
He turns the laptop so the officers can see a map pulled up with a blinking dot. “I followed him all the way back to his house. Gated community on the downtown side. He pulled in less than an hour ago. He should still be there.”
Tank cracks his knuckles slowly. “So he went home like nothing happened?”
Riot’s mouth tightens. “Looks that way.”
Mason doesn’t rush it. He studies the map on Riot’s screen for a long second, jaw working like he’s already running through options in his head. “We don’t handle this at his house,” he says finally. “Too many cameras. Neighbors. Security. I’m not dragging heat down on us or the girls.”
Riot nods. “He’s in a gated development. Cameras at the entrance, probably inside the house too. Quiet extraction is possible, but we don’t stay there.”
“Good,” Mason says. “Then we don’t.”
He looks around the table. “We take him off-site.”
That lands heavy and solid in the room.
Blade leans forward. “Warehouse?”
