My stomach tightens. "What kind of noise?"
"The kind that usually ends with someone bleeding. Come on, let's go."
I look at Ava, who's already standing. "You need to stay here."
"Like hell. If this is about me, I have a right to know."
"Church is for patched members only. No exceptions."
"Then I’ll wait outside the door and you’ll tell me everything when you're done." She crosses her arms, and I can see there's no point arguing. "I'm not sitting in my room like a helpless damsel while you all decide my fate."
"Fine. But you stay out of sight, and if anyone asks why you're lurking in the hallway, you tell them Ice Pick said you could be there."
"Deal."
We head down to the basement where the chapel's located. It's a large room with a heavy oak table in the center, chairs around it marked with each officer's position. Vulture at the head, Falcon to his right as VP, Sterling on his left as chaplain. I take my spot as Sergeant-at-Arms, and the other brothers file in until we're all seated.
Vulture waits until the door's closed before speaking. "The Reapers know where Ava is."
My blood goes cold. "How?"
"They've got eyes on our compound. Spotted her coming in this morning." He slides a photo across the table, a blurry shot of me and Ava on my bike. "This hit our secure line twenty minutes ago. The message was clear. They want her, and they're willing to negotiate."
"Negotiate?" I spit the word like poison. "What the hell do they think they can offer us?"
"Territory. They'll back off our eastern routes if we hand her over."
The room erupts in argument, brothers shouting over each other, some saying we should take the deal, others calling them cowards for even suggesting it. I don't say anything. I can't say anything because if I open my mouth right now, I'm going to start breaking things.
Vulture lets it go on for a minute before slamming his gavel down. "Enough. We're not trading her. She's under our protection, and that means something."
"Does it?" Hustler asks, leaning back in his chair.
“We don’t bargain with traffickers,” Falcon adds, voice like steel. “Not for territory. Not for profit. Not ever. Because if we trade one woman, we trade every woman who trusts our name; including the ones Cara’s trying to put back together.” I watch as the darkness runs through Falcon’s eyes at the thought of anyone bargaining for a woman’s life after what Cara went through.
"I understand that, but from where I'm sitting, we're risking a lot for one civilian who's got half the criminal underworld looking for her."
"She's got evidence that could take down the Reapers' entire operation," Knox counters. "That's worth the risk."
"Is it, though? Or are we putting the club in danger for personal reasons?" Hustler's eyes flick to me, and I know exactly what he's implying.
I'm on my feet before I can think better of it, my chair scraping back. "You got something to say to me, say it."
"Fine. You brought her here. You claimed protection. And now we're all on the line because you've got a hard-on for some reporter with a death wish." He stands too, meeting my challenge. "Maybe your judgment's compromised, Ice Pick. Maybe you need to step back and let someone else handle this."
I can feel the whole room tighten; not just patched brothers, but the prospects lined along the back wall, learning what loyalty looks like under pressure. Somewhere upstairs, women are going quiet too, because how the club treats a protected woman isn’t just politics. It’s identity.
Challenging another officer's judgment in church is serious business, the kind of thing that can fracture a club if it's not handled right.
Vulture’s voice cuts through the tension. "Sit down. Both of you."
I don't move, too busy staring down Hustler and imagining all the ways I could make him regret those words. But Vulture’s gavel slams again, harder this time.
"I said sit the fuck down."
Slowly, reluctantly, we both sit. The air's still crackling with violence, but Vulture's authority holds it in check.
"Ice Pick's judgment isn't compromised," Vulture says, his tone brokering no argument. "He's doing exactly what a Sergeant-at-Arms should do, protecting someone who needs it and serving the club's interests at the same time. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me after church."
