He was expecting fear or anger. Instead, I showed him nothing except calm, lethal certainty.
The message was clear. Vice and his men had severely underestimated the situation they’d just stepped into, and they were about to learn exactly what that mistake would cost them.
I held his gaze, feeling an icy calm settle deeper into my bones. “You got your proof. I'm not your fucking guy. So why the hell are you still sniffing around my territory?”
Vice sneered, clearly dismissive of any evidence I’d shown them. His eyes were cold and full of contempt as he took a slow, arrogant step forward. “Oh, we got your ‘proof,’ Cross. We’re not denying it’s real. We just don’t give a fuck. Your brother screwed us over, and it’s your responsibility to give him up.”
My lips twisted into a humorless smirk. “Not gonna happen. You’ve wasted your damn time.”
“You’re not understanding,” Vice growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. He was trying hard to assert his dominance, to intimidate me. “You know exactly where Gavin is hiding. And you’re going to tell us. You’re going to make this right.”
I cocked a brow, a deadly stillness radiating from me.
“Or what?” I asked, my tone dripping with challenge, inviting him to try something.
Vice’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a nasty, menacing smile. “Or maybe you start losing people you care about. Pretty little family you got yourself there. Hannah and Isa, wasn’t it? It’d be a shame if anything happened to them because of your loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
Rage surged hot and dark in my chest, but I only shook my head slowly, feeling nothing but disgust for how stupid this motherfucker was. “You have no fucking idea who you’re threatening, Vice. Or how big of a mistake you just made.”
His three enforcers stepped forward, their expressions menacing, clearly believing they held the upper hand. But before any of them could make a move, the air shifted around us, the silence suddenly filled with the faint rustling of movement.
My brothers stepped out of the shadows like fucking wraiths, silent and deadly, their presence dominating the back lot. Rebel emerged from the open garage bay, leaning casuallyagainst the doorway, his dark eyes sharp and watchful. Stryker and Kevlar appeared from around the back of the building, positioning themselves strategically, poised and ready. Havoc and Flint stood near the motorcycles, their eyes locked with cold determination on Division Nine.
Vice’s men shifted uneasily, their arrogance slipping when they realized they’d been neatly boxed in. But Division Nine wasn’t known for being smart. They weren’t backing down without a fight.
One of the enforcers reached for a gun at his hip, clearly underestimating how prepared we were. Before his fingers fully closed around the grip, Kevlar had moved, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back with brutal force. The man grunted, hitting his knees as Kevlar disarmed him, pressing the barrel of the captured weapon firmly against the back of his head.
The other enforcers made moves, but they’d barely shifted before Stryker and Havoc disarmed them, restraining them with practiced ease. The threats were quick and whispered, deadly promises of what would happen if they moved even an inch.
Vice’s expression twisted with rage, and he lunged forward, eyes blazing and fists clenched, clearly not caring about the danger he was rushing into.
I didn’t hesitate. My reaction was swift and ruthless. My boot connected with his stomach in a powerful kick, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to double over. Before he could fully recover, he straightened up just enough to find himself staring down the cold barrel of my gun, pressed firmly against his forehead.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Vice,” I growled, my voice low and unforgiving. “And you’re out of moves.”
His eyes flashed with rage and the barest flicker of fear, the realization finally dawning on him that he’d severely miscalculated this entire fucking situation.
I racked the slide back, chambering a round with a metallic click that cut through the heavy silence. Vice’s eyes widened, his body stiffening as the reality of his situation finally settled in.
My finger rested lightly on the trigger, but I wasn’t going to shoot him. Not here or now. But he didn’t know that, and I was perfectly fine letting him sweat it out.
“You stay the fuck away from me and away from my family,” I warned, my voice low, dark, and edged with deadly promise. “Even look in our direction again, and I’ll end you.”
I leaned in, close enough that he had nowhere to turn away. My voice dropped further, dripping with lethal intent. “But eventually, Vice, I will come for you. And when I do, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll fucking beg for death.”
I let the words settle between us, heavy and final. Then I deliberately lowered the gun to my side, a clear statement that I didn’t see him as a threat. Vice’s eyes tracked the weapon instinctively, just long enough for me to strike. My fist connected hard with his jaw, snapping his head back sharply. Before he could recover, I drove my knee upward into his ribs, hearing the satisfying crack of bones breaking beneath the force.
Vice stumbled back, his face twisted in pain as blood streamed from his now shattered nose. He gasped, cradling his broken ribs, agony etched clearly across his face as he collapsed heavily to the ground. Standing over him, I felt nothing—no remorse or hesitation. Just the quiet, lethal calm that came with dealing justice.
“Crawl your sorry ass back to your prez.” My voice was dangerously soft and utterly emotionless. “And make damn sure he understands that if any Division Nine patch or associatethreatens any of my brothers or their families again, the Hounds will fucking end every last one of you.”
Vice didn’t respond, just glared up at me through eyes narrowed with pain and humiliation. My brothers watched silently, their expressions cold and uncompromising, their presence a tangible reinforcement of my promise. Slowly, the Division Nine members stumbled and limped to their bikes, their injured bodies barely able to keep themselves upright as they started their engines. No one moved to help them. They were alone and vulnerable—exactly where we wanted them.
I watched until they disappeared from view, my breathing calm and heart steady, feeling nothing but satisfaction and cold certainty. The Hounds didn’t play games, and Division Nine would learn that lesson the hard way if they stepped over the line again.
Turning, I walked toward the open bay behind me, letting the familiar smell of motor oil and metal wash over me. A sudden, prickling awareness made me lift my gaze to the window overlooking the bay from my office. Hannah stood there, eyes wide, her face pale as she stared down at me, clearly having witnessed what just went down outside.
Fuck.
