The room goes quiet.
All eyes turn to me and Jackal.
I stand. Look directly at the kid. “Ash had to leave.”
“Leave?” The kid’s voice rises. “We just got attacked, and our president left?”
“Watch your tone,” I say quietly. Dangerously.
He backs down slightly but doesn’t drop it. “I’m just saying, it looks bad. The president taking off right after a battle. What are the other clubs going to think?”
“They’re going to think Ash made the right call.” I plant my hands on the table. “His wife is alone at a safe house, trying to save our brother’s life. Ghost got shot protecting her. Got shot protecting Ash’s child. So yeah, Ash left. Because family comes first. And if you have a problem with that, you can get the fuck out of this club right now.”
The kid’s face goes red. But he shuts his mouth.
“Ash gave us orders before he left,” I continue, looking around at everyone. “Simple orders. Clear orders. Burn them all to ash. So that’s what we’re going to do.”
“And I’m here now,” Jackal adds. His voice carries weight. Authority. “I’m Bonnie’s brother. Ghost is my friend. And the Savage Legion just tried to destroy my father’s legacy. So trust me when I say—we’re going to make them pay for every bullet they fired, every brother they killed, every second of fear they caused.”
The kid nods slowly. Sits back down.
“Anyone else have questions?” I ask.
No one speaks.
“Good. Then gear up. We ride in one hour.”
The meeting breaks. Brothers scatter to prepare.
Jackal catches my arm before I can leave. “That kid’s going to be a problem.”
“Maybe. But he’ll fall in line once the shooting starts.”
“Or he’ll get himself killed.”
“Either way, problem solved.” I head for the door. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
Fifty-three minutes later,we’re ready.
Thirty brothers. Armed to the teeth. Rifles strapped across backs. Pistols in holsters. Knives tucked into boots. Extra ammunition loaded into saddlebags.
We look like an army.
Wearean army.
I swing onto my bike. Jackal takes position beside me at the front of the formation. “Ready?” he asks.
“Been ready.” I start my engine. “Let’s go finish this.”
We ride out in a column. Thirty bikes roaring through the destroyed gate, heading east toward Savage Legion territory.
The ride takes forty-five minutes. Long enough for the adrenaline to build. For the anger to sharpen into something cold and deadly.
I think about Ghost. And I think about Marcus Stone. About the smug bastard who thought he could take us down.
He’s about to learn he was wrong.
Savage Legion compound appears in the distance. Buildings surrounded by a chain-link fence. Their gate is closed. Guards are visible at the entrance.
