32
TITAN
The compound looks like a war zone.
Because it is.
I walk through the aftermath, boots crunching on shell casings and broken glass. Bodies—all theirs—sprawl outside the fence. Our brothers are already dragging them into a pile. Someone will burn them later.
The garage is still smoldering. Black smoke drifts into the dawn sky. The front gate is completely destroyed, twisted metal and concrete rubble where it used to stand.
But we’re alive.
I count heads as I move through the compound. Miller’s getting stitched up by one of the old ladies who knows basic field medicine. Barnes has his arm in a makeshift sling, but he’s on his feet, helping clean up. Rodriguez limps, but he’s moving, directing prospects to start boarding up broken windows.
We lost three brothers. Three good men who won’t see tomorrow.
But it could’ve been worse. It should’ve been worse with the way they hit us. Mona gave them everything, and we still held.
That counts for something.
Ash stands near what’s left of the gate, phone pressed to his ear. His face is stone. Cold. He’s talking to someone. I head toward him, but stop when I see his expression.
He’s talking to Bonnie.
I can tell by the way his jaw clenches. The way his free hand curls into a fist.
He hangs up and stares at the phone for a long moment.
“How is he?” I ask.
Ash doesn’t look at me. “Still alive. Barely.”
“Bonnie holding up?”
“She’s trying.” His voice is flat. Dead. “She got the bleeding to slow down, but he’s lost a lot of blood. Keeps drifting in and out of consciousness.”
“We really do need to go get them.”
“I know.”
But neither of us moves.
“Come on,” Ash says finally. “We need to assess the damage. Figure out our next move.”
We head to his office. The building took some hits, but it’s still standing. Inside, the meeting room is a mess—broken windows, bullet holes in the walls, furniture overturned. We right the table and chairs. Sit down like we’re about to have a normal church meeting.
Except nothing about this is normal.
“They came at us with everything,” I say. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five riders.”
“She told them exactly where to hit us.” Ash leans back in his chair. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving exhaustion in its place. “We can’t let this stand.”
“No. We can’t. I want to wipe them off the fucking map.” My hands curl into fists on the table. “Marcus sent them here to kill us. To burn down our home. We don’t respond to that with defense. We respond with annihilation.”
“Agreed. But we need to be smart about it.”
“Smart means striking while they’re weak. They just lost twenty men. They’re scattered. Wounded. This is our chance.”
