Jay leaned in close to him. “You’re gonna look every one of your brothers in the eye and tell them what you did. When the vote comes down, you’ll wish I’d left you bleeding in this cabin.”
Riot’s phone buzzed. He stepped out, muttered a few words, then came back with a sharp nod.
“Prospects are here,” he said. “They brought the van.”
Headlights shone through the trees outside, a battered panel van growling up the dirt track. Two prospects jumped out, one carrying chains. They didn’t ask questions, they followed orders,cuffing Gage and shoving him into the back. He didn’t fight, he grinned like a man who thought he still had cards to play.
I swung back onto Jay’s bike, the rumble in my chest doing nothing to drown out the thought that letting him breathe was going to cost the club and maybe me.
Chapter 29
Reaper
By the time we rolled into the clubhouse lot, the engines outside had already gone quiet but were still warm. Word had spread and they were waiting.
“Here, show them.” Lucy placed the flash drive in my hands.
I nodded, opened my mouth, but didn’t know what to say. So I turned and walked away, just like I always had.
Inside, the war room the lights were dimmed, the long table crowded. Every patched member was present. Phones down, shades off—Church was in session.
Riot shoved Gage into the centre of the room. “On your knees.”
He staggered down.
I paced once behind him, then threw the flash drive onto the table. It skidded to a stop in front of Keno. “Proof. He sold us out to cartel-connected hitters. Fed them names, routes, brothers.”
Murmurs rose until it blended into one, white noise roaring in my ears.
“Tell them,” I yelled.
Gage lifted his chin. A laugh bubbled in his throat, cracked and bitter. “You want a confession? Fine. I gave them Diesel. I gave them Ghost. I gave them you.”
The room roared. Riot slammed his fist for silence.
I bent down. “Patch. Off.”
Slow, trembling, Gage stripped the leather from his back. He laid it on the wood floor like a skin he’d been forced to shed.
I rose at the head of the table, my kutte feeling too heavy, like it was dragging me down. Every eye was on me, hard and expectant.
“You all heard it,” I said. “Gage confessed. He sold us out to cartel hitters. Handed the Fangs our drops, our names, our blood. Diesel’s gone because of him. Caleb too.” I let the weight hang before adding, “That’s blood betrayal. Article three, section one. Punishable by death.”
The table erupted. Fists slammed. Voices overlapped—“String him up!” “No vote needed!” “Out, then in the ground!”
Riot’s voice cut through the noise. “Club law says we vote. Even when it’s this clear. Especially when it’s this clear.”
I nodded once. “Then vote.”
One by one, hands rose around the table. Death. Every single brother. No hesitation.
Riot marked it down. “Unanimous. Death sentence.”
The room went quiet again. The weight of it pressed against my ribs. Every man there wanted blood, and I couldn’t blame them. But I wasn’t going to let rage run the club, not ever.
I planted both hands on the table. “You’ve spoken. He dies.” I paused, let it sink in, then added, “But not until I bleed him of every truth he’s still hiding. He’s got names, routes, allies we don’t know yet. I won’t hand him a bullet ‘til I wring him dry.”
Riot’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. Link looked away, fists still trembling, but no one spoke against me.
