"Let him." Judge's expression is hard. Certain. "We've been preparing for this fight whether we knew it or not. Every decision you've made, every member you've vetted, every line you've drawn, it's all been leading here. To the moment when the Vipers finally push too far and we push back."
He's right about that too. The Iron Phoenix was built on the ashes of what the Vipers destroyed, forged in the fire of everything they did wrong. We're their antithesis, their opposite, their judgment. Of course it was always going to come down to this.
Of course it was always going to be war.
"Everyone will stand with you," Judge says. "You know that, right? Every single brother in this club will fight beside you. Will die beside you if it comes to that. Because we believe in what you built. In what you stand for."
I know my brothers would follow me into hell. They've proven it a dozen times over, but hearing it said out loud, in the context of the war that's coming, makes it real in a way it hasn't been before.
"I know," I say. "And I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't come to that."
"But if it does—"
"If it does, we fight." The certainty in my own voice surprises me. "We fight, and we win, and we make damn sure the Vipers never hurt anyone else again."
Judge raises his glass. "From ash, we rise."
I raise mine in return. "From ash, we rise."
We drink to the war that's coming, to the brothers who'll stand beside us, to the woman sleeping upstairs who doesn't know she just set the whole thing in motion.
And I find I'm not afraid.
For the first time in three years, I'm not afraid.
Next Day
The next morning comes too fast and not fast enough.
I manage maybe two hours of sleep before giving up and heading down to the common room. The clubhouse is full. Every single member of the Iron Phoenix is here, called in by the message I sent at dawn.
*Emergency church. Everyone in. No exceptions.*
Church is what we call our meetings, the private discussions where only patched members are allowed. Usually, we hold them in the back room, around the table where we hash out club business. But this morning, with the smell of coffee thick in the air and tension crackling like electricity, we gathered in the common room.
Judge stands to my right, solid and steady as always. The rest of the brothers are arranged around the space, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned.
Brick leans against the wall near the door, arms crossed, watching everything with those cold tactical eyes. Ex-military, same as Judge, and built like his road name suggests. When Brick hits someone, they stay down.
Wraith sits at the bar, already nursing coffee. He's the one who plans every route, every run, every extraction. Has never lost a man on the road and doesn't intend to start now.
Canvas sprawls in a chair, tattoos covering every visible inch of skin. He runs one of our legitimate businesses, the tattoo shop in town that serves as both cover and income. Art is his first love, but the club is his family.
Diesel's at the pool table, cleaning his hands with a rag even though there's no grease on them. Habit from spending twelve hours a day in the garage keeping our bikes running perfect. He can build things and burn things with equal skill.
Saint stands near the window, the youngest fully patched member at thirty-one. Former paramedic, which makes him invaluable when bullets start flying. The name is ironic. He's done things that would make a priest faint, but he wears it anyway. Demon's younger brother, though you'd never know it from the way Saint talks about him. The hatred between them runs deeper than blood.
Ranger's by the bookshelf, studying a map of the territory like he's memorizing it. Former military, same as Brick and Judge.
Echo sits in the corner, quiet as always. Surveillance expert, the man who knows where everyone is at all times. He speaks rarely, but when he does, everyone listens.
My brothers. Every single one of them a man I'd trust with my life. Every single one of them about to find out I'm asking them to risk theirs.
"Thanks for coming on short notice," I start, and eight pairs of eyes lock onto me. "We've got a situation."
"When don't we?" Canvas drawls, but there's no heat in it. Just the easy humor that keeps us sane when things get dark.
"This one's different." I pause, choosing my words. "Last night, a woman showed up at our door. Her name's Ivy Mason. She was engaged to Cole Briggs."
