"That's what we need to decide." Hawk finally sat, lowering himself into his chair. "The intel is solid—Vince had no reason to lie by the end. But this could be exactly what Cross wants. He knows we have Vince. He has to assume we'll get the location out of him."
"A trap." Axel's voice was quiet, thoughtful. "He gives Vince just enough real information to be believable, then sets up an ambush at the warehouse."
"Possible. Likely, even." Hawk's gaze swept the room. "But the alternative is letting that shipment reach distribution. More people dying. Morecommunities destroyed. And Cross walking free to plan his next move."
Silence fell. The weight of the decision pressed down on everyone—the risk of walking into a trap versus the cost of doing nothing.
"We need more information." Tyler's voice was steady, the trained investigator cutting through the emotion. "If Cross is expecting us at the warehouse, he'll have positioned his forces accordingly. We need eyes on the location before we commit to an assault."
"Agreed." Hawk nodded slowly. "Which is why I'm not calling for a vote tonight. We have three days. We use that time to scout, to plan, to identify every possible angle Cross might exploit." His gaze hardened. "And we go in with enough firepower that even if it is a trap, we're the ones who walk out."
His palm came down on the table—not a slam, but firm and final, the sound sharp as a gavel crack in the quiet room.
"Church dismissed. Get some sleep. Planning starts at first light."
The members filed out slowly, conversations resuming in hushed tones. A few glances came our way—curious, assessing—but no one said anything. No one challenged. Whatever they thought about Tank and Tyler, it would wait until Cross was dealt with.
I stayed seated, Tyler beside me, both of us processing everything we'd just learned. Cross knew about us. Cross wanted Tyler back. Cross was willing to kill anyone who got in his way. The stakes had just gotten higher than I'd ever imagined.
Tyler's hand was still in mine, our fingers still laced together on my thigh. Neither of us had let go.
"We'll figure this out." My voice came out harsher than I intended.
Tyler turned to look at me. In his eyes, I saw fear and determination and something else—something that looked a lot like the same fierce, impossible thing that was burning in my own chest.
"Together." A promise.
"Together."
15
EYES ON
TYLER
The morning came too soon. I woke to the gray light of pre-dawn filtering through Tank's blinds, my body pressed against his, his arm heavy across my waist. For a moment I let myself stay there—listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin, pretending the world outside this room didn't exist. The sheets smelled like both of us now, sweat and sex and something warmer underneath. Last night felt like a dream I wasn't ready to wake from.
"I know you're awake." Tank's voice was rough with sleep, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
"How?"
"Your breathing changed." His arm tightened,pulling me closer until there was no space between us. "Five more minutes."
I turned in his arms, facing him. In the dim light, the hard lines of his face looked softer, younger. The enforcer stripped away, leaving just the man. My chest ached with something I wasn't ready to name.
"Hawk called church for oh-six-hundred." I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling stubble rasp against my skin. "We need to move."
Tank caught my hand, pressed a kiss to my palm. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. "I know."
Neither of us moved. "After this is done," he said quietly. "After Cross. I want to take you somewhere."
"You mentioned that. A beach."
"I meant it." His eyes found mine in the darkness, intense and certain. "Just us. No guns, no ambushes, no psychotic ex-boyfriends trying to kill us. Just... us."
The word boyfriend caught in my chest, even applied to Cross. Tank had never called himself anything. We hadn't defined this, hadn't put labels on whatever was growing between us. But the way he was looking at me now made labels feel unnecessary. This was real. That was enough.
"I'd like that."
