My eyes widen and my mom comes to sit down next to us.She giggles at my shocked expression.“Baby, we have all known you’ve liked each other since you were a teenager.”
My face reddens like this is my first ever crush, but I guess in a way he is.
“Shaylin, his mother, is going to be thrilled.We connected during a school event and we have kept in touch over the years knowing this would have eventually happened.”
My mouth falls open in utter shock at what she is confessing right now.
My dad is a cop and I do know the MC does things that aren’t legal when it comes to protecting their family and businesses.
“Me and the Devil Souls came to an agreement a long time ago when they helped save my sister’s life and Liam, who is like a son to me, too, is a part of the club.And there’s your uncle who was a huge part of your life growing up.”
My shoulders sink in relief because Zach means so much to me already and I want people to approve of him.
“Come on, let’s go eat,” Mom yells to us, and all talk of my relationship status is over.
* * *
Zach
I arrive at the clubhouse, the familiar rumble of my bike dying beneath me as I cut the engine.The parking lot is a sea of chrome and leather with at least twice as many bikes as there should be for a Thursday morning.My gut tightens.Brothers rush through the double doors with expressions that tell me everything I need to know before I even step inside.
Something’s gone seriously wrong.
The heavy wooden doors barely muffle the chaos inside.When I push them open, the noise hits me like a physical force.Shouting, cursing, the metallic clicks of weapons being checked and loaded.The air reeks of cigarette smoke, sweat, and the sharp tang of gun oil.
Tiana stands behind the bar, her face drained of color.Instead of pouring drinks, she’s handing out ammunition clips with mechanical precision, her usual smile nowhere to be seen.Our eyes meet briefly, and the slight shake of her head confirms what I already know.This is bad.
“Slaughter!”someone calls, and I raise a hand in acknowledgment without breaking stride.
I scan the room, taking in the details.Brothers strapping on Kevlar vests.Weapons laid out on tables.Maps spread across the pool table.The chaos of men preparing for war.
I spot Greyson at the far end of the room, bent over one of those maps, his knuckles white where they press against the wooden table.Even from here, I can see the vein pulsing in his forehead, a warning sign I’ve learned to recognize over the years.Whatever’s happened, it’s pushed him to the edge.
“Grey,” I call, shouldering my way through the crowd.Brothers part for me automatically, some nodding grimly, others too focused on their preparations to notice.“What’s going on?”
Greyson’s head snaps up, blue eyes locking on to mine with laser intensity.The muscle in his jaw twitches—another warning sign.
“Where the fuck have you been?”he demands, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass.“I’ve been calling for hours.”
The accusation stings, but I keep my expression neutral.“I was handling something personal,” I reply, deliberately vague.The last thing I want is to bring Xavier into this mess.“Phone was on silent.What’s happening?”
Greyson’s eyes narrow, clearly dissatisfied with my answer, but the current crisis takes precedence.“The fucking Reapers,” he spits, slamming his fist against the table hard enough to make the map jump.“Rolled through town last night like they own the place.Smashed up Murphy’s Bar, terrorized half of Main Street, fired shots through Melinda’s bakery window.”
My blood runs cold, then hot.The Reapers, a nomad club from the north with a reputation that makes even hardened MCs cautious.They’re known for extreme violence, for leaving towns broken in their wake.And they’ve brought that chaos to our doorstep.
“Anyone hurt?”I ask, already reaching for the vest that my father Butcher tosses in my direction.The Kevlar is heavy, familiar in my hands.
“Three civilians in the hospital,” Greyson answers, his voice tight with controlled fury.“Nothing life-threatening, but that’s not the fucking point.This is our town.Our people.”
I nod, strapping the vest over my shirt.“How many?”
“At least fifteen,” says Demon, our intelligence officer, stepping forward with a tablet displaying grainy surveillance footage.“They’re holed up at that abandoned motel off Highway 16.Watching, waiting for our response.”
“Which they’re about to get,” Greyson growls, straightening to his full height.In this moment, with rage hardening his features, I’m reminded why he’s our president.There’s something terrifying in his calm control, something that promises violence.“This isn’t a negotiation.This is about showing them what happens when you fuck with Devil Souls territory.”
I check my weapon methodically: magazine full, round chambered, safety on.The weight of it against my palm centers me, pulling me fully into this world and away from the memory of Xavier’s warmth this morning.I slide it into my holster, forcing myself to focus only on what’s in front of me.
“What’s the plan?”I ask, studying the map where Greyson has marked the motel’s position.
