The moment Razor’s shout cut through the night, every nerve in Trixie’s body lit up like a live wire. He said that there was movement in the woods, but what did that mean exactly? They’d barely been at the compound for ten minutes. Just ten minutes, and danger was already beating down their walls. She’d known her father’s reach was long—snaking through cities, ports, clubs, and businesses, but this was too much. If this was his men, then he had found her faster than even she expected.
Cyclops reacted instantly, squeezing her hand into his own, grounding her. And then, he let her go. “Stay here with Ink!” he barked, already moving. Like hell she would just stay behind with Ink. This was her problem and her fault, and there was no way that she’d let Cyclops go out there by himself. Before she could follow, Ink appeared at her side, a massive hand closing around her arm.
“Don’t,” Ink warned. “Cyclops said?—”
“I don’t care what he said.” She jerked free from his hold. “I didn’t come here to hide behind people so that Cyclops can go off and get himself killed.”
Ink didn’t grab her again—he wasn’t stupid—but he stepped into her path, towering over her. “This isn’t about bravery, Trixie. It’s about not fucking up Cyclops’s plan. And trust me—he always has one. He’s not running off to get himself killed, I can assure you.”
“I’m not helpless,” she insisted. She had been saying that a lot since running into the Road Reaper’s bar, but no one seemed to believe her.
Ink sighed heavily, then lowered his voice. “Nobody said you were, girl. But you step out of line now, and you’ll become a distraction for him, and distractions get people killed.” That hit like a punch to her gut. She froze in place, afraid to take another step toward where Cyclops ran off to. Ink was right, and she hated that he was right, but the last thing she wanted to be was a distraction to Cyclops. He had put himself between her and danger twice tonight already. His whole club was gearing up for war because of her. If she ran toward the gates like an idiot, she’d take their eyes—and guns—off the real threat. Her pride snarled inside her chest, but her logic snapped its jaws around it.
She forced herself to stay put. Ink must have seen the decision settle in her spine, because he nodded and loosened his shoulders. “Good. Now breathe.”
She tried to breathe, but it felt like sucking air through a straw.
Cyclops reached Venom at the wall. Razor sprinted to flank them, his weapons drawn. One of the floodlights rotated, illuminating dark trees that were swaying in the wind. Except—some of the shadows were moving wrong. They weren’t trees at all. They were too low, fast, and coordinated. They were men, and seeing them made Trixie’s skin crawl.
Ink gently nudged her back toward the largest building on the property. “Get inside.”
“I’m not going inside,” she snapped.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Fine. Then find someplace to take cover.” She ducked behind a thick concrete pillar bolted into the foundation. Her heart tried to climb out of her throat.
The floodlights swept across the tree line again—and this time she saw them clearly. There were three men, all dressed in dark clothing and wearing no patches. They were moving with military precision. They weren’t like the scouts that her father sent in first. These were retrieval specialists. Her father wasn’t escalating his search for her; he was accelerating it.
Cyclops raised his arm and signaled silently, and his brothers shifted position like pieces on a chessboard. They were an efficient unit—controlled and ready for whatever came their way. The men at the tree line didn’t cross into the clearing—they stayed just inside the shadows. They were communicating and watching them, while sizing up the club’s defenses.
Venom spoke through the comms, his voice low. “They’re not approaching for some reason. We think that they are mapping things out.”
Ink cursed beside her. “Fuck, they’re looking for a breach.”
Cyclops didn’t lower his gun. “They won’t find one.” One of the men in the trees lifted something—a phone, or maybe a camera, as they took shots of the layout. Seeming to catalogue every exit, angle, and blind spot.
Trixie felt sick. “They’re studying us,” she whispered.
Ink didn’t contradict her. “And they’ll try again when they think they know enough to come back.”
“And when will that be?” she asked.
Cyclops answered over the comms without looking back. “Tonight,” he breathed.
Her breath hitched. “Tonight?”
He didn’t soften the truth. “They’re moving fast. Your father wants you back before dawn.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. Five days of running, and her father’s shadow had caught up with her again. But something felt different now. He wasn’t just chasing her; he was challenging the Road Reapers, and that was going to end in blood.
Venom barked into the comms, “One of them has a drone!”
Trixie’s head whipped upward just in time to see the small quadcopter rise above the tree line, silent and sleek. “Motherfucker,” Cyclops growled into the comm. He raised his pistol and fired once—clean and precise. The drone exploded into sparks and vanished into the darkness.
The men retreated instantly, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. Razor sprinted forward. “We giving chase?” he asked.
Cyclops lowered his gun. “No. They want to lure us out, so we stay tight.” Trixie and Ink joined them at the gate as he scanned the woods again, his jaw tight and his eye narrowed. Trixie felt the tension rolling off him. It was controlled, but dangerous. He was a man balancing rage and strategy.
Ink muttered, “So that’s it? They just poke around and leave?”
