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Facial recognition first—I don’t have a last name. I feed Thomas’s clearest photo into the club’s internal systems, then spin up multiple proxies and start cross-referencing with external records. Juvenile files are sealed tight, but I route through an old vulnerability I mapped in the county systems months ago. Code scrolls past in rapid waves. My fingers move faster, tension building in my shoulders as the minutes stretch.

I’m searching anything and everything. Club databases, cross-checks, burner phone pings, you name it. I dig deeper, peeling back layers that should’ve stayed hidden. The room is silent except for the clack of keys and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Then the pieces start locking together.

“Shit…” I whisper into the empty room. “He’s a fucking Collins.”

The juvenile record loads. A younger photo. The connection hits like a freight train—he’s Raymond’s brother. Raymond fucking Collins, the vice President of Redline Revenant. I don’t stop. I push and dig deeper, harder, pulling chat logs, triangulated surveillance data, encrypted emails. The evidence mounts. Route details. Member movements. Even fragments of my own background file funneled straight from Nicholas. Small leaks at first, growing bolder over weeks. The final link clicks—direct activity traced to a confirmed Redline server.

My phone detonates. It vibrates so violently it nearly skitters off the desk. Text after text floods the screen.

Unknown:

You’ve always been smart, baby, but it took you a while this time. You took too long, bad fucking move on your part.

Unknown:

Remember what happens when you’re a nosy little bitch who can’t stay out of things.

Unknown:

We know you’re in Eric’s office right now. Alone. Tell your brother, Lennox, and the officers on that ride tonight to watch their backs. Redline is coming for blood.

Unknown:

Your time is up. It’s time to come home. See you soon, baby.

Oh, fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck.

More messages pour in, each one more vicious than the last from the pieces I see, but I don’t dare open the thread again. Graphic threats against Lennox and every officer currently out. The threats are detailed, personal, cruel, and scream to me the most horrific things I can imagine.

I know this man. I know how he works, operates. He isn't bluffing. I've seen this side, and that's why I did what I did and got the DEA involved. The cold weight of the truth and the fear claw up my throat. I force myself to keep moving—copying key files to my encrypted thumb drive, setting silent alerts, meticulously wiping every trace of my access, and reinforcing the backdoors. My stomach is in knots the entire time.

When the system is finally clean and locked down, I grab my phone again. My thumbs fly across the screen as I fire off a single urgent text to both Lennox and Corbin.

Me:

Come back. Now. It’s important. Don’t wait. You’re in danger.

I hit send, heart still hammering, and stare at the glowing screen.

The real war had just begun—and I was the one who lit the fuse.

CORBIN

Gunning the throttle on my bike, the deep rumble of the engine vibrates through my chest as we roll out of the compound gates. The night air cuts to my bone—cold, carrying the scent of pine from the woods. My hands grip the bars tight, knuckles turning white at the idea of leaving Tatum alone right now. She’s back there, locked in Eric’s office, alone with those four monitors glowing like portals into hell, digging through secrets that could get her killed. The memory of our frantic fuck just minutes ago refuses to fade. The initials on my ribs made a claim, we both know it. She owns me, and I want to own her. Carve my initials into her so we can match, but first—we get rid of the threats to my brothers and her. Then I'll claim her.

Thomas is out there doing God knows what, slithering around with his questions and veiled threats. He thinks he’s safe, that he can ask these things and not raise suspicion. He has never been more wrong. Snakes get skinned around here, a lesson I plan to teach him soon.

Lennox rides out front of the formation, his broad shoulders are rigid, spine tight with unease from all the bullshit we are facing. The rest of the officers stretch out in perfect formation behind us. Judge and Fuse flanking with that calm lethality they bring to every run. While Diesel and Ledger hold the rear like the unbreakable unit they are.

We’re the Iron Wraiths’ best, chosen to be the officers for a reason. These roads are ours and not a fucking soul could take that from us. We earned it with blood, sweat, and iron fists. Tonight, we ride our less-used routes that have been getting probed lately by shitty little scumbags who think they’re big and bad. Tonight, we’re showing face, and reminding all these little shadows who control this territory. We are lethal and not going anywhere without a fight. The ride is silent, not even bugs chirp, as if they know who’s come out.

Thomas’s face flashes in my mind. Why the fuck did I not take her more seriously? I should have noticed the way he’s been lingering around Tatum during training. Or how he’s been asking questions to members about routes, backgrounds, old grudges. Ledger has caught him multiple times. I shut him down myself more than once. My fists itch to do more than bark orders. But none of us realized he’s not a regular prospect. And if he’s tied to Redline…God couldn’t save him from me.

I shake the thought as we hit a straight stretch, the road humming under my tires. My phone’s vibrated twice in my pocket. I can’t check it yet, but I know it’s her. My Spitfire, brilliant and fierce, hacking systems most of these patched members wouldn’t even know how to turn on. Pres signals a left onto the river curve. The road narrows, asphalt cracked and uneven, one side dropping into a steep ditch, the other thick with underbrush. Perfect ambush country. My instincts scream. I scan the mirrors constantly, every shadow a potential threat. “Stay sharp,” I mutter to myself.

“Eyes open, brothers!” Pres’s voice crackles over the comms. “Tatum texted me. She found the rat, which means they know we’re out. Ledger spotted movement earlier. Tighten formation. Now.”

Fuck. It is him. I’ll kill him myself before this is over.