When we're done, Grace takes my hand, and we walk back toward the clubhouse.
Phantom's waiting outside. "We need to talk. Now."
I meet his eyes. "Venom?"
"Yeah."
The peace is over.
Now, it’s time for war.
Inside, the main room is packed.
Phantom, Thunder, Blaze, Blight, Rogue. Damon, Dixon, Shiver, and the Reapers Rejects brothers who came with us.
Grace insists on being there even though I know she’s tired too.
I don't fight her on it. She's earned the right to hear this.
We're all gathered around the table when Phantom's phone rings.
Unknown number.
Phantom looks at it, then at me.
He answers, puts it on speaker. "This is Phantom."
"This is Venom." His voice is almost mocking.
The room goes dead silent.
Venom's voice is cold, controlled, and deadly. "I understand you killed my son. Executed him like a dog in the desert."
Phantom's jaw tightens. "He kidnapped my daughter. Put her in a cage like an animal. He got what he deserved."
"Your daughter." Venom's laugh is bitter. "The one my family paid four million dollars for nine years ago. The one who was bought and paid for. Who belongs to us."
I can't stay silent. "She doesn't belong to anyone except herself. And she's my wife."
"Your wife." Venom's voice drips with contempt. "How touching. Tell me, Shadow—that's your name, right? The enforcer who failed to protect her?"
My hands clench into fists.
"How does it feel," Venom continues, "knowing my son had her locked in a cage for hours while you ran around like a fool? Must eat at you. The guilt. The failure."
Every word is a knife, perfectly aimed.
"Here's what's going to happen," Venom says. "You killed my son. My youngest boy. My blood. And there will be consequences."
Phantom leans forward. "You declaring war on our club, Venom?"
"I'm declaring war on everyone who helped kill Flint. Shotgun Saints. Reapers Rejects. Mojave Wolves. Every club that rode against my family."
Damon speaks up. "That's three clubs against one. You can't win that fight."
"Can't I?" Venom sounds amused. "I have allies. Clubs who owe me favors. Clubs in Texas who don't appreciate outsiders coming in and killing our brothers. By the time I mobilize, I'll have fifty, sixty brothers ready to ride. Can you say the same?"
The room is tense, silent.
