Three missed calls from Hustler.
My blood turns to ice.
"Vulture, we've got a problem. Hustler's been calling."
"Call him back. Now."
I dial as we reach the bikes, and Hustler answers on the first ring. "Ice Pick, thank fuck. We've got a situation at the compound."
"What kind of situation?"
"The kind with guns and Reapers. They're trying to breach the gate. Sterling and some of the brothers are holding them off, but I don't know how long we can last. And Ice Pick? They're asking for Ava by name."
Everything inside me goes cold and sharp. "Is she safe?"
"For now. I've got her locked in the panic room with the other ol’ ladies, but if they get through the gate, I don't know if I can hold them off."
"We're on our way. Hold the line." I end the call and look at Vulture. "The Reapers are hitting the compound, they want Ava."
"Fuck." Vulture’s already on his bike, his engine roaring to life. "Sterling, we need backup at the compound, now, the Reapers are making a play."
"On it. Moving everyone I can spare."
We tear out of the warehouse district, pushing our bikes to dangerous speeds. The compound's twenty minutes away on a good day. We make it in twelve, running red lights and weaving through traffic with complete disregard for safety.
The sound of gunfire reaches us before we even turn onto our road.
We come around the corner to find the gate breached, Reaper bikes are scattered across our property, and brothers engaged in a firefight with the invaders. Bodies are already down, both theirs and ours, blood staining the gravel dark.
I don't think, I just react. My weapon's in my hand before I'm off the bike, and I'm moving toward the clubhouse where Hustler said he secured Ava. Vulture and Zip are right behind me, providing covering fire as we cross the open ground.
A Reaper appears from behind a truck, weapon raised. I put two rounds in his chest before he can fire. Another comes from my left, and Zip takes him down with a headshot that sprays brain matter across our workshop wall.
We fight our way inside, clearing rooms as we go. The clubhouse is a war zone, furniture overturned, glass shattered, and the smell of gunpowder thick in the air. Hustler's barricaded himself in the hallway leading to the panic room. He’s bleeding from a wound in his shoulder but still standing.
"They're trying to get to her," he gasps. "Three of them went upstairs. I couldn't stop them all."
"You did good, brother. We've got it from here." I look at Vulture. "Get him medical. I'm going after Ava."
"Ice Pick, wait for backup."
"There's no time."
I take the stairs three at a time, my weapon up, and every sense on high alert. The panic room's hidden behind a false wall in my bedroom, reinforced steel that can withstand most assaults. But if they've got explosives, if they're determined enough, they might breach it.
Voices reach me from down the hall. Two men arguing about how to open the door. I round the corner and find them exactly where I expected, two Reapers with a crowbar trying to pry open my bedroom door.
"Step away from the door," I say, my voice deadly calm.
They turn, and I recognize one of them. The Sergeant-at-Arms who was filming when they had Ava in that storage room. Recognition flashes in his eyes, followed by fear.
"You," he says.
"Me." I aim for center mass. "This is your last chance. Walk away."
Instead of walking, he goes for his weapon. Stupid move. I fire twice, both shots hitting true, and he goes down hard. His partner drops the crowbar, bends down and reaches for his gun.
I get a shot off and aim at his arm so that he drops his gun.
