I call Damon immediately.
Ten minutes later, we're back at the clubhouse.
Emergency meeting. All hands.
The main room is packed—Reapers Rejects brothers filling every available seat, standing along the walls.
Damon's at the head of the dining room table, Dixon beside him. Shiver's there too, arms crossed, expression dark.
"Flint called Grace," I say without waiting for anyone to speak. "He's here. In Vegas. Been tailing us since we left Texas."
Damon's expression goes thunderous. "He called her? Directly?"
"Yeah. Knew where we were staying. Knew we got married. Knew we got tattooed today. He's been watching us this whole time."
"Son of a bitch." Damon slams his hand on the table hard enough to make the beer bottles jump. "He's on our turf without permission, without announcement, without respect. That's not just disrespectful—that's an act of war."
Dixon leans forward, all business. "How many Copperhead Kings are with him? Did he give any indication?"
"Don't know. But he's confident. Too confident for someone operating alone in hostile territory."
Shiver's jaw is tight, his hands curled into fists. "Could be a trap. Lure you out to this meet, ambush you, take Grace while you're bleeding out."
"Don't care." My voice is flat. "He threatened Grace. Talked about putting her in a cage. Terrorized her over the phone. He dies tomorrow, trap or not."
Damon holds up a hand. "If we're doing this, we do it smart. No cowboy shit. We plan this out, we have contingencies, and we make damn sure our brothers come home."
We spend the next twenty minutes planning.
Numbers, positions, backup plans.
Who rides, who stays back to guard Grace, what weapons we bring.
Then Damon says something that stops me cold.
"You should call Phantom. Before tomorrow."
I go still. "Why?"
"Because if you die tomorrow, Grace is left alone." Damon's voice is serious, not backing down. "No club protection. No husband. Just a woman with a fifty-thousand-dollar bounty on her head and a father who's pissed at her. Think about it, Shadow. You're gone. My club will do what we can, but at the end of the day she has a life back in Texas. The Shotgun Saints won't protect her if their Prez is still furious, even if she is one of his daughters. She'd be completely alone."
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I hadn't thought of that.
Hadn't considered what happens to Grace if I don't make it back from tomorrow's meet.
"I'll call Phantom myself if you won't," Damon continues. "Explain the situation. See if he'll talk to you. Even if he doesn't forgive you, even if he never lets you back in the club, he'll protect Grace. She's his daughter."
Grace touches my arm, her fingers gentle. "Let him call. Please. I want to talk to my dad anyway."
I look at her. See the hope in her eyes. The fear.
The desperate need to hear her father's voice, to know he still loves her despite everything.
"All right," I say finally. "Make the call."
Shiver pulls out his phone. "I'll do it. He'll answer for me. Might not answer for Damon—no offense."
