His face had changed. The terror was locked down now, shoved behind something colder. The father was still there, but the president had taken the wheel.
“Lock it down,” he said.
The room snapped to attention.
I had been in clubhouses across three states. I had seen presidents speak, sergeants roar, enforcers threaten, and old-timers command without moving from their chairs.
But Edge didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“Gates shut. No one in or out without my say. Bullet, get eyes on every road between here and that party. River, I want names.Every kid there. Every parent. Every cop who answers that call. Cal, call the lawyer. Tarak?—”
“I’m going back for the bike,” Tarak said.
His voice was dead flat.
Edge stared at him.
For a second, I thought he would say no.
Then he gave one sharp nod. “Take two. Bring it home clean.”
Callum lifted his chin toward two of his San Diego men. “Go with him.”
Tarak looked like he wanted to argue against San Diego help on principle.
Then his eyes flicked up the stairs.
Destiny.
He swallowed whatever pride got in the way and nodded.
Edge turned toward a skinny brother with a laptop already tucked under one arm.
“Hacker.”
“Already on it,” the man said.
“Destiny wasn’t here tonight.”
Hacker’s fingers flew over his phone. “Give me the story.”
Edge didn’t blink. “Graduation cruise.”
Regan’s voice came from the top of the stairs, raw and fierce. “Cabo.”
Everyone looked up.
She stood there with blood on her hands.
Destiny’s blood.
Her eyes were red, but her voice could have cut glass.
“My daughter is in Cabo with me,” Regan said. “Celebrating graduation early. Spa. Boat. Sunburn. Whatever rich people post about when they’re trying to look relaxed.”
Hacker nodded. “Got it.”
