All these attacks are designed to hide what’s coming, to cause a distraction, so we don’t see it coming.
An ambush, a stab-you-in-the-back attack rather than meeting your enemy face-to-face on the frontlines.
Classic fucking Guerilla style.
It also reveals that some of the old guard—if not Thunder, then at least some of them—are working with Guerilla.
They want to distract us, cause infighting, both among the MC overall, but more importantly, among the Council. They want us to doubt each other, turn on each other.
But it’s not working; in fact, it’s actually backfiring spectacularly. Most of our brothers and prospects have either openly declared their support for our leadership or have quietly reaffirmed it. Quietly, not because they’re cowards, but because they know how this works and are offering to be double agents against some of our own members.
Jesus, Zeus must be rolling over in his grave at the schism that’s threatening to rip our club apart.
We’re up in Digits’ tower, which we’ve been using as our war room so he can multitask and we can have the latest intel at our fingertips.
There are thundering footsteps up the stairs, and Pix comes into view. Her face is etched into a permanent scowl. “I just got off the phone with Hugo; one of their chop shops was hit.”
“Now they’re trying to get our allies to turn on us.” I stand from my chair, abandoning scouring surveillance footage looking for my bastard brother.
“It won’t work. Our allies are solid; Dom won’t retaliate.” Ash grips my shoulder with a deadly smile. “These bastards are just wrapping the noose tighter.”
“It’s another check in the box that this is Guerilla,” Bane agrees, scratching the scruff on his chin. “Letting us know that he was watching Leeva’s place and knew that Dom and Hugo were protecting it until her family arrived, and this is their payback for that.”
“If that’s the case, then Guerilla has been watching Leeva’s place and spotted Dom and Hugo without us even having a clue he was so close. How thefuckis he doing this?” I growl in frustration.
It’s like he’s a ghost, able to move around the city without a trace. With Digits’ skill, his tech, and all the search programs that would rival the Feds’, there’s no way Guerilla should be able to move around withoutsomedetection.
“What the fuck?” Digits exclaims.
Instantly, I’m on edge. Spinning around, I see that at least half of his monitors are black. He’s typing furiously on his keyboard.
“Are we being hacked?” Pix sits beside him, pulling out a spare keyboard. She doesn’t have near the skill that he does, but she has some.
“No breach warnings.” His fingers fly across the keyboard. “No intrusion flags. My perimeter defenses are clean.”
Bane, Ash, and I can only watch as we’re useless in situations like this.
“It’s more like the interference is external. On-site but outside the system.”
“Shit, the perimeter cams are out, too,” Pix says.
At that, Bane, Ash, and I don’t hesitate as we thunder down the stairs to the main part of the clubhouse. Bane is on his phone, shouting at Breaker to pull more men to guard the perimeter, while Ash raises the alarm for Badger and some of the other members who are here at the compound.
We rally the troops as we race through the bar area and throw open the door. My guns are already drawn, but I slam to a halt.
Not believing myfuckingeyes.
Already through the compound’s gates and getting off his bike is a guy wearing a Havoc Guardians cut. His hair is lighter than mine, and his eyes are more green than blue. He’s shorter and smaller than me, but by his smile, you’d think he was a god who ruled my world.
Guerilla's eyes glint with his smirk, and he spreads his arms wide. “I’m home, brother. Happy to see me?”
Chapter 41
Army
Idon’thesitate.
My right arm lifts, aiming my gun at my bastard brother.
