"You have forty-eight hours," Venom says. "Bring Grace to Houston. To my clubhouse. Hand her over willingly, and maybe—maybe—I let the rest of you live."
Phantom's voice is steel. "That's not happening."
"Then I come to you. And when I do, I'm not just taking Grace. I'm taking everything. Burning your clubhouse to the ground. Killing your brothers. Destroying everything you've built. And I'll make sure you watch before I kill you too."
Grace's voice cuts through the tension. "I'm not afraid of you."
Venom pauses. "Is that her? Grace? The little bride who thinks she has a choice?"
"Yes." Grace's voice is steady. "And I'm telling you right now—you're not getting me. Shadow will kill you. My father will kill you. You're a dead man, Venom. Just like your sons."
The silence on the other end is deadly.
When Venom speaks again, his voice is ice. "You're brave, girl. I'll give you that. But bravery won't save you. Forty-eight hours. Bring her to Houston, or I bring hell to your quaint little town."
The line goes dead.
No one speaks for a long moment.
Then Phantom slams his hand on the table. "Fuck his ultimatum. We're not giving him Grace. We're going to Houston. And we're ending this."
We spend the next two hours planning.
Maps of Houston spread across the table.
Intel on the Copperhead Kings clubhouse—location, layout, security.
The plan is simple: overwhelming force. Hit them hard, hit them fast, kill Venom.
Grace insists on going. "He wants me. Use that. I'm the bait that draws him out."
"Absolutely fucking not." I'm not even entertaining this. "You're not bait."
"Why not? It's smart. It makes sense."
"Because I almost lost you once. I'm not risking it again."
Phantom backs me up. "Grace, I understand what you're saying. But Shadow's right. You stay protected."
We compromise—Grace comes to Houston, but she stays in an armored truck, far from the actual assault. Protected by Blaze and Blight. Doors locked, engine running, ready to escape if needed.
I hate it, but it's better than leaving her here.
Plus, we all know what our women will do when we tell them no.
They’ll do it anyway.
Stubborn girls.
We all agree that we’ll leave tomorrow morning.
It’s a three-hour drive to Houston and we’ll hit the clubhouse tomorrow night, ending this permanently.
That night, back at the house, it's just Grace and me.--
Charlie's snoring on the couch. The house is quiet. Safe.
But tomorrow we ride into war.
