My vision went red.
“Motherf—”
I hurled the vest across the room. It slapped against the wall and slid down, leaving a smear of dust behind. I grabbed the nearest crate and threw it. Then another. The crashes echoed through the warehouse, but it didn’t do a damn thing to cool the fury boiling in my chest.
Moose picked up the vest and stared at the patch.
The patch didn’t just mean something. It meant everything. And there was no denying now that one of ours was involved. They had betrayed their club and they had betrayed this city, and for what? For money? Working with the cartel was a death sentence, we all knew that, but one of our own had willingly gone over to them. Had willingly helped them. And whatever theywere involved in, had gotten Rowan's parents killed and had now put a death sentence above her head.
“One of ours was here,” Moose said quietly, his anger and hurt distinct in his tone.
“No,” I growled. “One of ourshelped them.”
The words tasted like poison on my tongue.
Someone in the club—in my club—had tipped off the cartel. Had warned them we were coming here. They had been working with them long enough to leave their shit lying around like it was nothing. Like the vest wasn’t an honor only bestowed to the best of men. A vest earned with blood and loyalty.
I slammed my fist into a metal beam and pain shot up my arm, but I welcomed it.
It was better than imagining Rowan back at the ranch while traitors moved pieces around us like we were pawns. Planning her death.
Better than closing my eyes and seeing her face going pale, and her eyes rolling back in her head as she bled out in my arms.
Better than hearing her cry out in pain as a bullet tore through her perfect flesh.
Bear stood beside Moose, jaw tight. “Inner circle’s gonna have to go even smaller, brother.”
He wasn’t wrong.
We’d already cut the circle down to the men we trusted with our lives. Now? We were talking about a handful. Maybe less. And if the men we trusted with our lives weren’t to be trusted, what did that leave us? Who did that leave us with?
The club was built on trust, and some motherfucker was out there pissing all over the heart of our club. Putting his brothers in danger. And for what? Money? Who in our club valued money more than respect? More than their family? My mind scrolled through every man in our club like a Rolodex but landed onnone of them. I couldn’t imagine a single one of them doing something like this.
The Kings wanted money to live, no doubt, but the club was built on more than that. It was builtformore than that. Because what good was money when you had no love and respect, and no family?
What good was all the money in the world when you ended up in an unmarked grave in the middle of Colorado, because that was exactly what was going to happen when I found the man that had betrayed us.
Swampy started unpacking the small black case he’d brought. “We setting up cameras?”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “I want eyes all over this place. If anyone shows up—cartel, Kings, I don’t care who the fuck it is—I want to know about it.”
The men got to work, placing discreet cameras in corners, behind beams, tucked into shadows. Motion-triggered. Silent. Invisible unless you knew where to look.
I stood in the middle of the warehouse, breathing hard, staring at the empty space where the cartel should’ve been.
Someone had warned them.
Someone wearing our patch.
And until I found out who, Rowan wasn’t just in danger.
We all were.
Before we left, Moose put the vest back where he had found it.
Hopefully, once they realized they had forgotten it, they would come back for it. And if they did, I would be waiting for them.
