The two other men inside try to lift their weapons.
Mercenary is already there too, cutting in from the side, gun up, voice hard.
“Down.”
One of them hesitates.
Mercenary moves, quick and brutal, and the man is on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back, face pressed into the rug, gun kicked away.
The other man backs up, eyes wild, trying to find an exit.
Viper steps into the doorway behind Ghost, blocking it like a wall.
Road captain. Route keeper. Trap closer.
Luke’s gaze darts around, realizing the truth too late.
This wasn’t a rescue mission for stolen property.
This was a Saints’ net.
He spits blood on my floor and glares at me. “You set this up.”
I take one step forward.
My gun stays trained.
“This is my cabin,” I say, voice low. “You brought this here.”
Luke laughs, breathless and ugly. “Salazar’s going to burn you all.”
Havoc steps into the doorway at last, calm as a blade being drawn.
“Salazar’s next,” he says.
Luke’s eyes flick to him like he’s seeing something bigger than a biker club for the first time.
Something organized.
Something military.
Something he should have been smart enough to fear.
Ghost tightens his hold, forcing Luke’s hands behind his back.
Luke bucks. Tries to fight.
Ghost doesn’t even blink.
He slams Luke’s face into the wall again, controlled enough not to kill him, brutal enough to end the discussion.
Luke goes still.
Breathing hard.
Hating all of us.
Mercenary drags the second man up by his collar and shoves him toward the porch. “Outside. Knees.”
