I stare at the screen. That bakery was Tiffany’s soul. It was the only thing she had built for herself, the only place where she felt safe before I came along. Watching him sit there, defiling her sanctuary, eating her food like he owns it... it wakes up a rage so pure, so white-hot, red bleeds into my peripheral vision.
"He wants an audience," I say, my voice devoid of inflection. "He wants to humiliate her. He wants to show her that nothing she builds is safe from him."
Tiffany lets out a small, strangled sound behind me. She trembles under my palm, a frantic vibration I want to crush. She looks at the tablet over my shoulder.
"My store," she whimpers. "He's... he's in my kitchen."
"He sent a message," Logan says quietly. "He said he’ll trade. The building and the town for the girl. He gave us one hour to bring her down to Main Street, or he'll burn the bakery to the ground with him inside it. And he'll take half of Main Street with him."
Silence descends on the hallway. The air hangs thick, heavy with the scent of leather and gun oil.
"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Shane says, snapping his switchblade shut. "And we sure as hell don't trade women."
"No," I say. "We don't."
I turn to Tiffany. Her face is pale, all the blood drained away, leaving her looking like a porcelain doll about to shatter. She looks from the tablet to me, her eyes wide.
"He's going to destroy it," she whispers. "Everything I worked for. And if he blows it up... people could get hurt. Mrs. Higgins lives in the apartment next door. Frank is in the hardware store."
"We're going to stop him," I say.
"How?" she asks, tears spilling over. "If we go down there, he'll see us. He'll detonate whatever he has."
I look at Logan. The President of the MC stares back, a grim understanding passing between us. The Gunnars have protected these mountains for three generations. We have an uneasy truce with the law, a silent pact with the town. But when an outsider comes in and threatens our soil? Our women? The rules don't apply.
"We go loud," Logan says, his voice dropping an octave. "We don't sneak. We don't infiltrate. We roll deep. We show him what happens when you threaten Pine Valley."
"He wants me," Tiffany says, her voice trembling but gaining a strange, desperate strength. "If I go down there... if he sees me... he might wait. He might hesitate."
"Absolutely not," I snarl, turning on her. "You are not bait. I told you that was a lie. I am not letting you within a hundred yards of him."
"I have to go, Blake!" She grabs the lapels of my vest, shaking me. "It’s my bakery! It’s my life! I’m not going to hide up here in the woods while he burns down my home! I’m not that victim anymore. You taught me that. You made me strong."
Her words land with impact. She is right. I have spent weeks watching her, protecting her, building her up. I have forged steel bars for her doors, but I have also tried to forge steel in her spine. If I lock her away now, I become just another man controlling her. Just another cage.
But God, the thought of taking her into the line of fire makes my stomach turn. I look at Austin. He jerks his chin in a sharp, singular motion. "We can armor the truck. Put her in the middle of the column. She stays inside until the threat is neutralized."
I look back at Tiffany. Her jaw is set. She is terrified, yes, but she isn't backing down.
"Okay," I breathe, the word scraping my throat. "Okay. But you listen to me. We are doing this my way. You stay in the truck. You stay down. And you watch me end him."
I turn to the brothers. "Load up. Full patch members only. Tell the others to lock down the gate. I want the heavy ordnance."
Shane grins, a feral, terrifying expression. "I'll get the shotgun."
The courtyard of the Broken Halos clubhouse becomes a storm of controlled chaos. Engines roar to life—the deep, thumping bass of V-twin engines echoing off the pines. The smell of exhaust mixes with the crisp mountain air, creating the scent of the MC.
I bypass my bike. Today, I need armor. I walk toward the blacked-out Ford F-250 we use for "heavy lifting." It has reinforced panels in the doors and bulletproof glass—modifications I welded myself in the Forge.
I open the passenger door for Tiffany. She climbs in, clutching the flannel shirt around her like a shield. I lean in, buckling her seatbelt myself, pulling it tight.
"Keep your head down," I order, my face inches from hers. "If the shooting starts, you get on the floorboard. You do not look up. You do not try to be a hero. You let me be the shield. You let me be the monster so you don't have to be. Do you understand?"
"I trust you," she says.
Those three words weigh more than the steel plate carrier I wear.I trust you.She is handing me her life.
I slam the door and walk around to the driver's side. As I climb in, I see Logan on his bike at the head of the column. Austin waits beside him. Shane and Tristan are in the SUV behind us. We form a rolling wall of iron and vengeance.
