Riot whistles low. “Whipped,” he coughs into his elbow.
Blade’s eyes snap to him. Riot instantly studies the floor like it’s fascinating.
Mason smirks, shaking his head before turning back to me. “Go ahead, sweetheart. What’s the question?”
I take a steady breath, trying not to sound like I’m auditioning for the role of anxious bystander. “How many new prospects have you had lately?”
The guys glance around at each other. A few confused shrugs. Mason narrows his gaze a little.
I continue, “I mean… since those college boys started being a problem. Has there been an increase? Like suddenly more random guys wanting in?”
Mason’s expression shifts. Awareness settles in behind his eyes.
Blade steps in closer, resting a hand on the small of my back, not pulling me away, just grounding me. LikeI’m here. Talk.
Riot chews on a toothpick, thinking. “We had three show up last week talking big. Said they ‘heard the club was looking to expand.’”
Lucky frowns. “And there were those two dudes last month who tried bringing in those counterfeit IDs to score favor.”
Rev snaps his fingers. “And that guy who showed up from out of town claiming he was ‘destined for the Reapers.’”
Mason crosses his arms. “That was weird enough. Now these little pricks think they can demand patches? Yeah. Someone’s feeding them bullshit.”
The room grows heavier, the danger suddenly feeling closer than the four walls around us.
Blade’s jaw flexes, eyes narrowing with predator focus. “This isn’t random recruitment stupidity. They’re being pushed. Coached. Set up to infiltrate.”
“In order to undermine the club from the inside,” Mason finishes, voice a quiet rumble.
My stomach drops. I don’t have a patch, I don’t have club ties like they do, but even I understand what that means.
Someone wants to take the Iron Reapers apart, not with a bar fight or a street ambush, but by attacking from the inside, from the heart of the club itself. Mason gives me a short nod and says, “Good catch,” while Blade’s hand tightens on my hip and he murmurs, “Smart girl,” his breath brushing my ear. The praise sends warmth through my chest even as a cold thread of fear winds tight beneath it, because I may not wear a cut or share their blood, but tonight I helped them connect a dangerous dot. And based on the looks on every face in that room, the war isn’t on the horizon anymore. It has already begun.
Mason shifts his attention to Riot, who’s lounging against the counter like he hasn’t been a caged panther this entire conversation. “You ran their names. Checked them out. Right?”
Riot snorts, offended that the question is even necessary. “Of course I did. I’m not Lucky.”
Lucky throws his hands up. “Hey! I haven’t screwed anything up in like… two whole days!”
Riot gives him a look that saysyou just breathing counts as a screw up,and Lucky mutters something under his breath and tightens a bolt that probably didn’t need tightening.
Mason rolls his eyes. “Alright. What did you get?”
Riot pushes off the counter and taps his phone screen. His expression goes darker with every swipe. “Clean backgrounds for the most part. Minor shit. Noise complaints. A couple speeding tickets. One slapped with a disorderly conduct charge at a frat party, but nothing that screams cartel puppet.”
Rev crosses his arms. “So either they hide their tracks damn well… or someone else is doing the dirty work for them.”
“Exactly,” Riot says, thumbs flying. “Every one of those idiots has family money. Trust funds. Big-name donors behind the college. That’s who has the real pull.”
Mason steps closer, looming over Riot’s shoulder. “Someone with influence is funneling morons into our path.”
Blade’s hand firms on my hip again, like he feels the shift in the room and wants me locked in his awareness. My heart thumps harder because that simple touch says more than words.
He is ready to protect me. Fight for me. Kill for me.
Riot keeps scrolling, muttering numbers and addresses. “They didn’t just show up out of nowhere. There’s a pattern. Someone’s sending them to test us. See how we react.”
My skin prickles.
