"Already have cameras on the house," I told him, "but additional coverage of approach routes would help."
"Done," Wizard said without looking up."Give me the addresses, and I'll have satellites tracking movement patterns by tomorrow."
The casual mention of satellite access raised my eyebrows, but I didn't question it.Hades Abyss had always been better connected technologically than Wicked Mayhem.
Pretty Boy turned to the taller man—Eagle, presumably."Need your law enforcement contacts checking for any inquiries about my sister.Missing persons reports, informal searches, anything."
Eagle nodded once, already pulling out his phone."On it.Got a guy in the records department who owes me.He'll flag any searches with her name."
The efficiency of their response—the immediate mobilization of resources without question or committee approval—highlighted the differences between their club operations and ours.No wonder Pretty Boy had been skeptical of my ability to protect Ophelia.
"This is temporary," I felt compelled to clarify."Once I have control of the club, we'll have full resources dedicated to family protection.Won't need to rely on outside help."
Pretty Boy's eyes met mine, measuring."Don't mistake this for charity, Razor.She's my blood.I'd burn both our clubs to the ground if that's what it took to keep her safe."
The declaration should have alarmed me, but instead, I found myself nodding in agreement."I understand completely."
And I did.One week with Ophelia and Dante had reordered my priorities so completely that I barely recognized the man I'd been before—the calculating treasurer who valued profit margins and clean ledgers above messy human connections.Now I stood in neutral territory with a rival club, plotting what amounted to treason against my president, all to protect a family I hadn't even known existed two weeks ago.
"We set up a secure communication channel," Wizard announced, sliding a small device across the workbench toward me."Encrypted texts, can't be intercepted or traced.Use it only for updates about Lia."
I pocketed the device with a nod of thanks.Pretty Boy approached, close enough that I could see the family resemblance to Ophelia in the set of his jaw, the shape of his eyes.
"Twice daily updates," he instructed, not a request but a command."Any changes in the situation, any new threats, I hear about it immediately."
"Understood," I agreed, extending my hand to formalize our arrangement."Your sister and her son are my life now.Nothing matters more than keeping them safe."
His grip was firm, his gaze steady as he searched my face for any sign of insincerity.Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he nodded once before releasing my hand.
"Then we understand each other," he said simply."Family above all else."
As I left the garage, heading back to my hidden bike through the shadows of the industrial district, I felt the weight of responsibility settling more firmly on my shoulders.The alliance with Hades Abyss added crucial resources to our protection network, but it also raised the stakes.Pretty Boy wouldn't tolerate failure when it came to Ophelia's safety—and neither would I.
My phone buzzed with a text from Socket: "All quiet at home.Kid built a fort in the living room."The simple update eased the pressure in my chest, giving me a brief break from the constant tension of the past few days.They were safe.For now.And with each ally secured, each resource added to our arsenal, I was making damn sure they stayed that way—no matter what it cost me, or the club.
Ophelia
I sat at the kitchen table surrounded by darkness, the blue glow of security monitors casting ghostly shadows across my face as I cycled through camera feeds for the hundredth time that night.Socket's reassuring presence outside had kept the worst of my anxiety at bay, but with each hour Razor remained absent, the knot in my stomach tightened.Dante had finally succumbed to sleep after building an elaborate fort in the living room—a testament to his resilient spirit despite the tension permeating our home.I envied his ability to find joy in small things while my own mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.What if Tyler had found us?What if Razor's club turned against him for protecting us?What if this fragile happiness we'd begun to build was already crumbling beneath us?
The distinctive growl of a motorcycle engine cut through my spiraling thoughts, the sound approaching slowly down our street.My breath caught as I switched to the front yard camera, shoulders relaxing only when I recognized the rider's posture—Razor, his exhaustion evident even in the grainy footage.I watched him do a slow circuit of our property, checking sightlines and speaking briefly with Socket before dismounting.
The security system beeped softly as the front door opened, and I rose on unsteady legs, adrenaline and relief creating a dizzying cocktail in my bloodstream.Razor stepped inside, his movements deliberate as he disabled the alarm and re-engaged the locks.The smell of cigarettes and motor oil clung to his clothes, his face etched with fatigue but eyes alert, scanning the room before settling on me.
"You're still up," he said, his voice rougher than usual, graveled with exhaustion.
"Couldn't sleep."I crossed the room to him."Not with you out there."
He pulled me against him, his arms encircling me with careful strength.For a moment, we just stood there in the dim glow of the security monitors, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, his body solid and real after hours of fearful imagination.
"Dante okay?"he asked, his chin resting on top of my head.
"Sleeping.Built a fort big enough for three people, then crashed hard around nine."I pulled back enough to study his face, noting the new lines around his eyes, the tightness in his jaw."How did it go?The meetings?"
Razor's hand found mine, his thumb tracing circles against my palm—a gesture that had already become familiar, comforting."Better than expected.We've got support now.Solid support."
He led me to the kitchen table, checking the security feeds before sinking into a chair.I watched as he methodically removed his gun, placing it within easy reach, then rolled his shoulders as if trying to release days of accumulated tension.
"Tell me," I prompted softly, sitting beside him.
