He’d gotten a haircut.
“I repeat. What. The. Fuck?” Viper said through his teeth.
Titus stilled. Viper saw it in the way the man’s shoulders tensed, in the boot he planted on one groaning biker’s chest.
“I guess I started it,” Phoenix grinned, wiping blood from his lip.
“I don’t think he wants to hear it,” Titus smirked, tongue flicking over the blood on his lip.
Viper stalked closer until his shadow cut across Titus’s boots.
“Tell me I’m dreaming,” he said, low. “Because there’s no way in hell you’re standing in this bar on my op.”
Titus’s gaze sharpened—a muscle jumped in his jaw, adrenaline, not amusement. “Didn’t see your name on the door.”
Viper leaned in, close enough to feel the heat off him. “Keep talking, and I’ll carve it into the floor.”
Titus’s lids narrowed, blue eyes lit like slits of flame. His teeth clicked once—a faint sound, warning before the words.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and throaty. “Fat fucking chance.”
It was a challenge—Viper would’ve betted his life on it. The bastard.
Around them, soldiers, assassins, and bikers shifted uneasily. The air was wired, seconds from breaking.
“Easy now,” Wrath said, voice low and steady as a blade being drawn. He stepped in between them, calm in the way only killers learned to be. His hand landed on Titus’s shoulder—firm, grounding, unhurried.
Viper’s eyes flicked to him. Wrath King—former SEAL, Erebus assassin, all authority and quiet danger. A man Viper respected.
“Not the time, not the place,” Wrath said evenly, gaze cutting between them. “Unless one of you wants Savage explaining to the SecDef why there’s blood on the floor he didn’t order.”
For a long second, no one moved. The room held its breath.
“Outside,” Viper snapped, turning for the door.
The cold air hit hard as they stepped out. The parking lot stretched wide and cracked, oil stains bled through the asphalt under a flickering streetlight. Engines ticked and cooled. Dust carried the sharp scent of exhaust and desert wind.
Genesis and Erebus followed, boots scuffing against gravel, forming a loose circle near the SUVs parked out front. Viper zeroed in on Titus—close enough to grab his shirt if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Not yet.
“I’ll give you a pass,” Viper said finally, eyes locked on him.
Titus gave him the finger—up close and personal, not backing off one fucking inch. Viper had to admit, most menwould’ve thought twice about doing that to him, especially this close.
“We’re here to take the asset off your hands,” Wrath said, voice low.
The noise from the bar bled faintly through the walls, the jukebox still grinding out old rock. Nobody inside came out. They’d seen the look before—the kind that said walk away or get buried.
“There’s been a change in plans,” Viper said, tone tight. Irritation threaded through every word. He’d gotten the call from Savage while still on the road—new orders. He was to collect the three Erebus assassins and move to a safe house in western Nevada. Once there, he’d wait for further instructions.
“So, what are we talking about?” Titus asked, frowning. “Someone’s after the asset?”
A wrong note sat in Viper’s gut—too much heat for a cartel accountant.
“More than likely,” Viper clipped. “The guy was an accountant for a cartel-connected family.”
“So that means,” Titus said, voice thick with distaste, “I have to work with you?”
Viper couldn’t help it—the grin came easy, wide and smug. “You sure the fuck do. If you want a paycheck.”
