“You boys weren’t exactly subtle,” he continues, tone almost conversational. “Same bikes. Same trucks. Same routes. Hanging around the edges like you were waiting for an invitation.”
My jaw tightens as his eyes drag over Bri again, lingering too long on the way she’s pressed against me, the way I’m shielding her with my body.
“We clocked you the third night,” he goes on. “Warehouse. Bar. Gas station on Miller. You thought you were learning us, but the truth is, we were learning you.”
His gaze stays on her now, open and unapologetic, and something ugly twists in my gut.
“That bar of yours wasn’t just a message,” he says, nodding vaguely toward town. “It was leverage. Pressure. You don’t flush men like Mason out by poking once and hoping for the best. You destabilize everything around them. You make them react.”
He tilts his head, studying Bri like she’s a prize already claimed.
“And you,” he adds quietly, voice dropping, “were never supposed to be on that bike tonight.”
My arm tightens around her instinctively. I feel her stiffen, her fear spiking.
“So this was planned,” I snarl.
He shrugs. “Parts of it. Chaos has a way of improvising.” His lips curve faintly. “You getting clipped just made things more efficient.”
My vision narrows. “You touch her again and I swear to god—”
He cuts me off with a soft laugh. “Touch her? No. I’m past that.”
His eyes are hungry now. Interested. Like he’s been waiting for permission he’s decided he no longer needs.
“I’ve been watching her for a while,” he says calmly. “Long before tonight. And she’s wasted here. Hiding behind patches and rules and men who think they own her.”
Bri sucks in a sharp breath.
“She won’t be a biker’s whore anymore,” he continues, voice smooth and confident, like he’s stating a fact. “If she wants that kind of life, she’ll learn it on her knees, where she belongs. Under my control.”
Something in me snaps.
I shift, pain screaming as I plant myself fully between him and Bri, teeth bared, blood dripping onto the pavement.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I growl. “You don’t get to look at her.”
He lifts the gun a little higher, finally aiming now, his smile thin and knowing.
“You think you’re the hunters here,” he says. “But you’ve been circling a shadow. The real players don’t sit in warehouses, and they don’t get their hands dirty. Guys like me exist so they don’t have to.”
He tilts his head, studying me like a broken machine he’s deciding whether to dismantle or discard.
“And now,” he says calmly, certainty baked into every word, “you’re in the way.”
I shift just enough to block Bri completely with my body. My ribs scream. My leg threatens to give out. But I plant myself anyway.
“You’re not taking her,” I say. “Over my dead body.”
He smirks. “That’s the plan.”
Before he can pull the trigger, Bri moves.
She twists out from behind me with a scream and slams into him, both hands grabbing the gun. The force knocks him off balance. He curses, shoving her back hard enough that she slams into the side of the SUV.
She gasps, pain ripping out of her, but she doesn’t let go.
“No!” I roar, dragging myself forward.
