“Go.” Brandi whispered.
Quinn’s jaw clenched.
Brandi silently begged.Please. Just leave.
Quinn stayed alert, her body thrumming with adrenaline as she ushered the girls toward the door.Get out. Get to safety.That was her priority.
“I need all of you to go to the truck and lock yourselves in,” she ordered, her voice low but firm.
“You aren’t staying in here alone, Quinn,” Echo shot back, refusing to budge.
Quinn barely registered the argument. Her mind was locked onto one thing—Brandi.They couldn’t let the club take her.
Pulling out her phone, she snapped a quick picture and fired it off to Gypsy with a single message:We have a problem.
Her phone rang instantly.
She slipped to the back of the crowd before answering."Gypsy!"
"Talk to me, baby. What’s happening?"His voice was tight, clipped, already filled with rage. She could hear him moving, texting—mobilizing. Someone was about to fucking die.
“A patch holder from some club grabbed Layla, trying to—” Her breath hitched. “Anyway, she slapped him. And Brandi… God, Gypsy, Brandi told the guy she was nothing but a club girl. What do I do? How do I get her away from them?”
His voice was deadly calm."Have they left with her?"
“No, he’s got her sitting on his lap like a fucking trophy. He’s not being nice.” Her stomach churned at the scene unfolding across the room. How the hell had this happened? This waswine country,not the middle of some backroad dive bar.
"Quinn, baby, keep it together. What’s the name of the club?"
She strained to see their patches. “Something Bone…”
A sharp, vicious silence followed before Gypsy let out a curse.“Motherfuckers!”
She could hear him breathing through his nose, holding back the explosion that was already brewing.“They’ve been stirringshit for months. I should’ve put them down hard when I had the chance.”
"Stay put. Do not engage. Just keep an eye on Brandi, and whatever you do, don’t let them see you or the others looking weak. She’s already in a bad spot—she doesn’t need pity.”
Quinn exhaled shakily. “Do you need me to hang up so you can do yourpresidentthing?”
“No, baby. I need you to stay on the phone with me.”
Quinn could hear the chaos unfolding at the clubhouse—Cruise barking orders, brothers getting ready to roll out.She kept her eyes on Brandi, willing her friend to hold on.
"Quinn!"
“Sorry, I’m here.”
“Help is coming. A guy named Tailor will find you. If his patch doesn’t say ‘President/Tailor,’ you don’t move. You understand me?”
“I understand.”
"We’re on our way as fast as we can."
“Promise?”
"Promise."His voice was firm.“Quinn, what’s happening? I can hear it in your voice.”
She swallowed hard. Her whole body trembled with rage and helplessness. “The way he’s touching her…” Her throat tightened."She doesn’t deserve this, Gypsy. I know she’s done things to Wick, but this isn’t right. And no one’s helping her."
