The Fangs had left their message, and my uncle had given me mine.
This wasn’t just war, it was family business.
The Steel Guards’ clubhouse sat deep in the woods, its old, corrugated siding patched with rust and pride. The smell of oil and smoke lingered in the gravel lot, the kind of scent that saidmen lived here, fought here, and bled here.
Riot and Link stayed back on their bikes. It was my meeting, my blood tie. Rox was waiting on the porch, cigarette glowing like a coal in the dark. His kutte looked older than me, patched and repatched, the leather worn dull at the edges.
“Pres,” he said, voice rough, like he’d swallowed glass and chased it with whiskey.
“Pres.” I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “They’ve got her.”
He exhaled smoke through his nose, gaze steady. “She’s been asking a lot of questions. How do you know it was the Fangs?”
My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it. I pulled the Fang patch from my belt and tossed it onto the porch between us. “Left this behind, with my knife.”
Rox’s eyes narrowed, catching every detail. He toed the leather with his boot, studying it like it might talk. Then he looked back up at me.
“They’re not only poking the bear,” he said slowly, “they’re dragging your woman into the den.”
My shoulders tensed. “She’s not—” I started, but Rox’s look shut me down.
“Don’t waste my time, boy.” He stepped closer, close enough I could smell the bourbon rolling off him. “You think I can’t read what’s in front of me? Hell, the whole town can read it. I’ve heard things.”
My jaw locked tighter. “She’s just Caleb’s sister.”
Rox’s eyes glinted in the dark, sharp as glass. “She’s Caleb’s sister,” he said, “but that’s not all she is, is it?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He smirked, slow, like he’d been waiting for me to bite. “How do you think I know she’s your woman?”
I didn’t answer.
Rox shrugged, easy like he was talking about the weather. “Word gets around. Don’t take much. The way you stand in front of her, the way she looks at you. Brothers notice. Enemies notice faster.”
“She’s not...” I started, then stopped myself, because denying it felt like spitting in the dirt.
Rox tilted his head, studying me. “Doesn’t matter what you call her. To them, she’s yours, and that means she’s a target.”
The ride back from Rox was nothing but thunder in my head. His words chased me like wolves.“Doesn’t matter what you call her. To them, she’s yours, and that means she’s a target.”
Lucy’s face burned behind my eyes, her stubborn chin and that spark Caleb used to have.
I pulled into the lot, killed the engine, and sat there for a second, breathing in the hot air. The yard was too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you check your back twice before stepping off the bike.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. A few brothers were hunched at the bar, others were shooting pool but not saying a word. All of them stole quick glances my way. Then I saw her.
Gabby.
Propped against the bar like she owned the place, a smirk playing at her ruby red lips. She waited for me to notice her, eyes glittering with something cruel.
“Well, well,” she drawled, “looks like someone finally outplayed our little Lucy. Guess telling Gage where she liked to hide wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut and everything inside me snapped.
I was across the room before she could blink. My fist tangled in her collar, and I slammed her back against the wall so hard, the shelves rattled, bottles clinking like bones. Her boots scraped against the floor as I lifted her, dragging her up until she dangled an inch off the ground.
The room froze.
