He had too many questions and no time for those answers. He could find out the details later. Ledger was his immediate priority.
“Souls ain’t typin’ up a fuckin’ note and spellin’ all the fuckin’ words right,” Zeke muttered.
Fuck no, this wasn’t the Souls. It was someone organized. Maybe even professional. They knew his son’s name. It wasn’t random, this had been planned.
“If it ain’t the Souls, who’d fuck with us?” Zane asked nearby.
Zeke wanted that answer more than anyone.
“Got no beef with anybody,” Chaos added as he joined them.
“That we know of,” Zane said.
“This might be of importance to note,” Kyra said, still sounding out of breath. “A couple of them were bilingual and had accents.”
Bilingual? Unless shit talking was considered an official language, that confirmed it wasn’t the Souls. That and the fact that club was an all-white MC. On purpose. It did not accept any prospects other than lily-white ones.
No one who was bilingual or had an accent was wearing one of their cuts.
His sergeant at arms was now pacing and living up to his road name by allowing his anger to consume him. “They’re all gonna fuckin’ die. Nobody—and I fuckin’ mean no-fuckin-body—touches DAMC property and gets away with it.”
No fucking shit. Someone crossed a fucking line and that line was about to snap and strike them back.
Guaran-fucking-teed.
“Only way we’re gonna find out who the fuck it is, is to go to the address,” Zeke said, holding up the note.
“What’s the address?” was yelled from someone out of his direct line of sight.
Zeke read it off the paper.
“No fuckin’ clue what’s there,” Coop said. He had followed on Kyra’s heels from The Iron Horse and into the common area.
Zane glanced up from his phone. “GPS don’t got it marked, either. From the satellite view, just looks like some kinda big metal building.”
His brother might normally be quiet, but every inch of him was just as tense as Zeke. As all of them.
“Want me to get a hold of Vi?” Zane asked quietly.
If anyone could keep a cooler head, it was Chill. It was why he made a great VP.
“Yeah, give her the heads up but tell her to only stand by. Don’t know who the fuck this is, what they fuckin’ know or…” He pulled in a breath. He was about to lose his fucking shit.
Maybe even go back to prison.
Because touching his son was a goddamn capital offense.
Rage yanked the paper from between Zeke’s fingers and scanned it. When he lifted his head, he growled, “You’re fuckin’ crazy if you think you’re goin’ the fuck alone.”
Zeke went toe-to-toe with him, despite Rage towering over him. “And you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think you’re comin’ with.”
“My fuckin’ job to protect you!”
“And it’s my fuckin’ job to protect my son!” Zeke yelled back.
The whole room went dead silent.
No one ever got in Rage’s face. Not if they were planning to stay upright.
