Glitch walked them through the comms setup, the repeater solution, the encrypted channels we’d use. He talked like a man reading off a solved problem. Glitch knew his shit.
“Questions?” Dutch asked when Glitch finished.
Colt raised a hand. “What’s our intel on rival activity? Wolves, anyone else who might be interested in this shipment?”
“Minimal,” Dutch said. “Razor still has no interest in Montana and no interest in us. We’ve confirmed that. The coup settled it.” He paused. “And the Spokane crews know better than to fuck with us on a sanctioned run.”
“What about cops?”
“Paid off where we need them.” Dutch’s expression didn’t change, but there was steel underneath. “The route crosses three jurisdictions. We’ve got friends in two of them, and the third is too understaffed to patrol effectively.”
Handful whistled. “Must have cost a pretty penny.”
“This shipment is worth it.” Dutch looked at each of us in turn. “Three months of operating funds, gentlemen. Club repairs, legal fees, family support. Everything we need to keep the lights on while we finish the Louisville set up. This run matters.”
Nobody argued.
“Any other questions?” Dutch waited, then nodded. “Good. We ride at dawn, six days from now. Final church the night before — we go over everything one more time. Between now and then, Holden and Glitch keep eyes on the route and the comms. Anything changes, I want to know.” He paused. “Everyone else, get some rest. Holden, make sure everyone knows their position.”
“Already done.” I’d sent the assignments out yesterday, along with individual briefings for anyone who wanted them. Only Danny had taken me up on the offer.
“Then we’re finished here.” Dutch stood, signaling the end of formal proceedings. “Holden, stay for a minute. Everyone else, you’re dismissed.”
The brothers filed out, Handful clapping me on the shoulder as he passed. “Don’t let Dutch bust your balls too hard,” he muttered. “You’ve earned a little praise for once.”
When the door closed behind the last of them, Dutch moved to the wall of fallen brothers. His back was to me, shoulders set in that way he had when he was thinking through something difficult.
“You’ve done good work on this route,” he said finally. “Better than good. The contingencies, the fallbacks, the tech integration—it’s the most thorough planning we’ve ever had for a run this size.”
“Thank you.”
“But I need to know something.” He turned to face me. “Are you okay?”
The question caught me off guard. Dutch didn’t do emotional check-ins.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He crossed to the table and leaned against it, arms folded. “I’ve known you twelve years, Holden.I know when something’s eating at you. And for the past week, you’ve been wound tighter than I’ve ever seen.”
I wanted to dismiss it. Wanted to say I was just being thorough, doing my job, taking the responsibility seriously. But Dutch had a way of cutting through bullshit that made lying to him feel pointless. “Danny reminds me of myself,” I admitted. “When I was new.”
“And?”
“And I keep thinking about all the ways I could fail him. All the ways this run could go wrong despite everything I’ve planned.” I met Dutch’s eyes. “I keep thinking about my father.”
Dutch was quiet for a moment. He’d been one of the brothers who’d shown up at my mother’s door to offer condolences and practical support after my father died. He knew the story better than most.
“Your father’s death wasn’t your fault,” he said. “It was a trucker whose company ran him into the ground. That’s not something you could have fixed.”
“I know.”
“Holden, you’re the best Road Captain this club has ever had.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Your routes are flawless. Your contingencies are solid. If something goes wrong on this run, it won’t be because you didn’t do your job.”
“Then what?”
“It’ll be because shit happens sometimes.” His expression softened fractionally. “You can’t protect everyone from everything.”
“I don’t believe in leaving things to chance.”
