“It’s not an unfair ask,” I mutter. “They lost their VP—sure. But we…” My voice trails off, the words sticking somewhere deep in my chest where they’ve been lodged for a week now. I force myself to move on. “Spike? Any update on him?”
Healer sniffs before answering. “No change. Brain activity is strong. I’ll keep him under an induced coma for another week.”
A heavy silence settles before Hound cuts in. “We need to increase security at his clinic, Ruin. I’ve been fendinghimoff for days. He’s not backing down.”
I frown. “Tudor?”
Hound nods, scowling.
I already learned the story once I was conscious enough to retain information. What happened the night Charlotte was taken. How Tudor used Shane and twisted something that was never supposed to happen.
Wolf and I had been clear. Charlotte was not to be used as bait, no matter how easy it made things for us.
Didn’t matter in the end.
“Keep him out,” I say flatly. “Mihai’s men aren’t needed anymore. Most have already cleared out of the compound. I’ll talk to him, but I’d rather they stay the hell away.”
No one argues.
I lean back slightly, ignoring the dull ache in my bruised ribs. “How are our guests settling in?”
Bulldog smirks, dark and humorless. “Poorly. The miserable fuckers have been swimming in their own piss and shit for days.”
Hound chuckles under his breath. “And as you requested, Ruin. Hands chained above their heads for…” He pretends to think. “Six days and eighteen hours so far?”
A cold, ugly satisfaction settles in my chest.
Good.
Scar and Hellfire deserve worse. They’re the reason all of this happened. The reason our clubs were torn apart. Why the Reapers paid the price. As did we.
We couldn’t save all of them. Some, yeah. But not nearly enough.
That abandoned hospital still haunts me.Theystill haunt me. The ones we didn’t find. The ones who were already gone.
And that’s why I know the hospital wasn’t their only base of operations.
So far, the bastards haven’t said a word.
When news broke that Hell’s Army had lost their head, their planted rats started surfacing. Easy to spot once you know where to look.
Hellfire had his claws in almost every MC south of Kentucky.
Their plan was simple.
Rot us from the inside out. Isolate the princesses. Break the trust between officers. Turn brother against brother.
And when the club is weak enough—gut it. Strip it clean. Swallow their trade and sell whatever—whoeveris left.
When church ends, my body grows numb with every breath that passes. Boots shuffle around me as the brothers exit the room.
Almost instinctively, my head turns to my left. I’d usually wait for everyone to leave and have a few seconds alone with Wolf.
We’d chat about strategies to improve our standing. Especially our bylaws. The ones that had failed us so miserably when it came to protecting Charlotte.
But my gaze lands on my dad instead. He’s been quiet. More than usual since all of us came back that morning.
The sun had barely risen, and Dad was there. He’d stayed back along with a few other brothers to protect the compound.
