But who?
Marcus Stone benefits if Iron’s out of the picture. It weakens the Ruthless Devils, makes Bonnie more vulnerable, and gives him leverage. But would he risk arresting his future father-in-law right before the wedding? Doesn’t track.
Jackal benefits by saving his sister from an unwanted marriage. But he’s states away building a new chapter. Unless he orchestrated it remotely, gathered evidence, timed it perfectly…
Or Bonnie.
The thought makes my jaw clench.
I don’t want to go there.
I don’t want to suspect the girl who ran barefoot through the woods and looked absolutely terrified when we found her at that gas station. She’s sleeping upstairs right now with stitches in her back and bandages on her feet, for goodness’ sake.
But my training won’t let me ignore possibilities just because I don’t like them.
What if she wanted out of the marriage badly enough to sacrifice her father? What if she fed information to the feds, thinking it would delay or cancel the wedding? What if the wholeescape was planned—dramatic enough to look real but timed perfectly to avoid actually marrying Marcus?
No.
I’ve seen real fear. Seen people running for their lives. Bonnie’s terror was genuine. The blood, the injuries, the exhaustion—you can’t fake that level of physical trauma.
But what if she knows something she’s not saying? What if she talked to someone, gave up information without realizing what it would be used for? What if she’s protecting whoever really turned Iron in?
My phone vibrates. I check and see it’s a text from Ash:Meeting in an hour. Strategy session.
I stand, stretching muscles that have been sitting too long. My back pops in three places. I’m getting too old for all-night watch shifts.
The clubhouse starts waking up around me. Doors open, showers run, coffee brews in the kitchen. Morning routine of men who live on the edge of violence.
I head to the meeting room after I freshen up. Ash is already there, maps spread across the table, looking like he hasn’t slept. Titan walks in, rubbing his eyes, followed by a handful of senior members.
Bonnie appears in the doorway ten minutes later. She moves more easily than she did at the meeting three days ago, when she could barely walk. The bandages are smaller now, her movements less stiff. She’s healing fast. Wears jeans and a tank top instead of the loose clothes she needed before.
“Morning,” she says.
“Let’s get started,” Ash says. “Martinez, report on the east side.”
Martinez stands, unfolds a map. “Savage Legion hit the pawn shop on Fifth Street last night. Broke windows, spray-paintedthreats, but no one was hurt. They’re getting bolder. Hitting closer to our main territory.”
“Patrols?” Ash asks.
“Doubled them. Got two-man teams covering every business under our protection. But we’re spread thin.”
“What about our lawyer?” another senior member asks. “Any word on Iron?”
Ash’s expression hardens. “Martinez is working on getting him released, but the feds have solid evidence. Someone fed them detailed information about club operations. Until we find out who, Iron stays locked up.”
“We’re searching for the traitor,” Titan adds. “Going through everyone who had access to sensitive information. Phone records, bank accounts, the whole deal.”
“Could be an inside job,” Rodriguez says. “Someone high up.”
“Or someone outside who got to one of ours,” another brother offers.
The discussion continues—theories about who betrayed Iron, how to protect remaining operations, and what to do if more arrests come. Bonnie sits quietly, listening. Taking it all in.
Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. The conversation starts circling back to the same points.
Then Bonnie speaks. “We’re thinking about this wrong,” she says.
