The trees close in tighter here, branches hanging, street lights and houses gone. But there’s a glow up ahead, peeking through the foliage. The cabin.
“Lights on,” I murmur when we come to a stop.
“Yeah,” Diesel replies. “And I see movement.”
So do I.
“He’ll have heard us,” Riot says from behind me. “No way he misses a dozen bikes pulling up on him.”
Ahead, Bishop and Rook greet an absurdly good-looking Forsaken who must be their road captain, Jinx.
“What the fuck,” Ace murmurs. “He looks like he should be on the cover of GQ, not riding a bike.
Ryder snorts, and Preacher cackles under his breath. I feel my shoulders easing a fraction—we’re in a serious fucking situation, but I have my boys with me. We’ve always handled everything life threw at us and laughed about it after.
“Shadows shifting all over the place,” I tell Bishop once we huddle up.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “‘Bout to have bullets rain down on us.”
“How are we handling this?” Jinx asks, hands in his pocket like he’s in line at a popcorn stand.
I look at Riot. “Split up? See if we can box ‘em in and overwhelm them?”
He nods at me, then pulls out his gun, checking the chamber. “Sounds good to me, Prez.”
Diesel takes over. “Ace, Ryder, Trig, head back left. Riot, Gun, Preach, back right.”
The men peel off without a word, skirting around the cabin like ghosts.
“Let’s knock on his door,” Rook says, eyes hard, his posture determined.
Bishop nods, taking out his own gun—a flashy Desert Eagle.
“You compensating for something with that, brother?” Diesel asks him with a smirk.
Bishop grins back, violence already simmering in his dark eyes.
“Why don’t you ask your momma?” he counters, making Rook snort out a laugh.
“My mom already raised three boys, doesn’t need a fourth,” Diesel shoots back without a moment of hesitation.
“Alright, alright,” I huff, though I can’t help chuckling. “Measure your dicks later. It’s go time.”
I palm my own piece and go low, nodding at the Forsaken one last time as we split and shuffle closer.
“Count four… no, five outside,” Diesel whispers, crouching beside me. “Armed.”
I nod, eyes locked on the cabin.
Two by the porch. One pacing. Two near a truck parked out front. All hired muscle.
“They’re expecting us. But they’re jittery as fuck,” I comment quietly.
“Good,” Diesel whispers back. “Let’s have them shitting their pants for about five more seconds.”
I smirk, then count to five. One last deep breath… then all hell breaks loose.
Gunfire cracks through the night, shattering the quiet like glass.
