Jersey’s voice stayed steady.
“We put a Serpent in the crusher and some cartel bodies in the dirt. They put their hands on our people. This isn’t theoretical anymore. It’s happening.”
Blackjack’s gaze slid to me.
“Your turn,” he said.
I pushed off the wall.
Every pair of eyes in the room landed on me. Some curious. Some weighing. None were dismissive. Liberty’s name bought that much before I even opened my mouth.
“We didn’t ask for this,” I said. “Not the Vipers. Not the Aces. Not even Roman by the sound of it. The Vincinos and their cartel friends decided to use our roads and docks like a chessboard and forgot to respect the pieces already on there.”
I let that sit.
“They think we’re some side quest,” I went on. “Extras in their little power play between Philadelphia and Atlantic City. Something to clean upif we get too noisy or see something we shouldn’t have. They tried to kill one of your own on our turf. They tried to make an example out of us at that junkyard. They’ve got no problem strangling a local business owner in his own office just to keep a secret or snuff out a potential witness.”
I looked at Blackjack, then 8-Ball, then the rest.
“If the Devil’s Aces fall,” I said, “the Shore Vipers fall. The Vincinos won’t leave women on bikes breathing once they’re done with the men who now ride alongside them. And if the Vipers fall, you lose the only backup you’ve got that isn’t tangled up in the Giorlando family tree that’s already at risk. Allies are hard to come by. You’ve got one that you can trust. Not because we’re nice. Because we are just as mean as you, and our Queen has already staked our lives on your side of this.”
A few mouths twitched. Spade nodded once. Mirage’s eyes had gone very, very sharp.
“We’re not here to be a decoration,” I finished. “We’re here to make sure that when someone writes the story of this war, they don’t get to pretend you stood alone.”
I stepped back against the wall.
Blackjack looked at his men.
“Any problems with that?” he asked.
No one spoke.
Good.
“Orders are simple,” he said. “Gate’s lockeddown. Nobody opens it without eyes on the road first. Watch rotations double. No member rides solo outside daylight unless they clear it with me or 8-Ball first. Family stays away from the front door and windows if they need to be here. Otherwise, offsite they stay. Meanwhile, we do what we always do—run our businesses, move our products, keep our books—but we do it with one eye on the horizon and one finger on the trigger.”
He glanced around the room again.
“And from here on, everybody keeps in their heads one thing. That we are not playing defense forever.”
Before he could say more, Spade’s phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and touched the screen. A second later his head snapped to Blackjack.
“What is it?” Blackjack asked.
The room tensed.
“We got company at the gate,” Spade replied.
***
Night had finished falling while we were inside talking. The yard floodlights were on now, throwing harsh circles of white across the cracked concrete. Beyond the fence, the street was a strip of shadow with a few broken teeth of orange from distant streetlamps.
Black SUVs sat out there. Three, maybe four. No headlights on. No plates I could see from here. Behindthem, shapes of bikes—sleeker than the Aces’, different rake. Steel Serpents colors catching stray light.
The Aces moved fast.
Men were already in position. Some behind bikes turned into low cover. Some on the roof with long guns. Voodoo had a scope to his eye and a line on any idiot who thought he could sprint the distance.
