Twenty minutes crawl by before the door opens again.
Will emerges first, followed by the rest of the brothers. Their expressions are unreadable, that practiced neutral mask that probably serves them well in MC business. Shaw's eyes find mine immediately, and some of the tension drains from my shoulders.
"Mira." Will stops in front of my table. "The Brotherhood is going to protect you... officially. That makes you family, makes threats against you threats against all of us. We're going to set up a controlled operation to draw Sullivan out, with law enforcement coordination. You willing to be part of that?"
Relief and gratitude hit me in equal measure. "Yes."
"Good." Will nods. "Here's what we're planning."
Over the next thirty minutes, the brothers lay out the tactical approach. Cole explains the bait strategy—making my investigation visibly close in on Sullivan to force him into desperate action. Cole confirms he's already reached out toDetective Perez and Fire Marshal Davis about coordination. Tate has three potential locations scouted for the trap, all with good sight lines and multiple exit routes.
Shaw stays close throughout the planning, his hand occasionally finding the small of my back or my shoulder, grounding touches that remind me I'm not alone in this.
"One question," I say when there's a break in the discussion. "What made you vote to protect someone you barely know? To put Brotherhood resources and the brothers at risk for an insurance investigator?"
Will's expression softens slightly. "You proved yourself. You worked the case honestly, adapted when evidence shifted your assumptions, handled a direct assault without falling apart. That's not someone who breaks under pressure. That's someone worth having at our backs."
Validation from Will helps to ease the knot in my belly.
"Plus you're with Shaw," Cole adds with a slight grin. "That makes you family by extension. We protect family."
The word settles over me like it did before—weight and promise combined. Not just Shaw's claim, but the Brotherhood's collective acceptance.
Shaw keeps me close as we move through the space, his presence solid and grounding while my brain processes what just happened. I walked into a meeting with the brothers as an outsider, an insurance investigator working a case, but I'm walking out under official Brotherhood protection, accepted as family even if I don't wear their patch.
"You okay?" Shaw asks when we're back in the main bar area, away from listening ears.
"Processing." I lean against the bar, letting the cool wood ground me. "Your brothers just voted to protect someone they barely know. Extended family status to an insurance investigator who showed up assuming they were criminals."
"You earned it." Shaw stands close, not quite touching but near enough to feel his presence.
"And if something goes wrong with the trap? If Sullivan gets through despite all the planning?"
"Then every brother in this club will rain hellfire down on him until he's neutralized." Shaw's voice drops to that dangerous register. "But it won't come to that. We've handled worse threats with fewer resources. Sullivan's desperate. We're coordinated and prepared. He doesn't stand a chance."
His certainty settles some of the anxiety churning in my gut. Shaw's not making empty promises or false assurances. He's assessing tactical reality and telling me straight what the odds look like.
"When do we set the trap?" I ask.
"Soon. Within the next day or two." Shaw pulls out his phone, checking messages. "Cole's already coordinating with Perez and Davis. Once we have a location secured and law enforcement is positioned, we make the bait visible and wait for Sullivan to bite."
"And then?"
"Then we catch a fucking arsonist and close this case permanently."
My phone buzzes. Another text from Sullivan's number:
You think the Brotherhood scares me? I've burned their businesses before. I can burn them again. Including you.
I show Shaw the message. His expression goes absolutely cold—that controlled violence I've seen glimpses of now surfacing fully. Not rage. Something colder and more dangerous. Calculation paired with lethal intent.
"Forward that to Perez and to your email," Shaw says quietly. "More documentation. More evidence. More rope for Sullivan to hang himself with."
I forward the message, watching Shaw's expression tighten with each word he rereads on my screen. This isn't just about the investigation anymore. Sullivan threatened me specifically, repeatedly, with increasing boldness. That made it personal for Shaw in ways that have nothing to do with solving the case and everything to do with protecting what's his.
"We end this soon," Shaw says, pocketing his phone. "Before Sullivan escalates further. Before he has time to plan something that puts more people at risk."
I nod. "When do we move?"
