Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Ruin
Three hours, and no word from Healer. Nothing from his medical team. Not a single goddamn update.
He took Scar, Hound, Bulldog, and Spike with him to the Reapers’ compound to see if anyone was left alive. But Hell’s Army doesn’t leave survivors.
The only call we got was when Healer had arrived on site.
He didn’t speak for a full ten seconds when I picked up, just breathed.
Then he told us about the bloodbath. About how the front yard of the compound looked like a slaughterhouse floor—mud turned black with blood, boot prints smeared through it like someone had been dragging bodies across the ground.
Two of their warehouses were nothing but smoking skeletons of steel beams and melted siding. Ash still floating through the air.
The hit must’ve happened sometime in the middle of the night. Clean. Precise.
Not a single fucking alarm triggered. No patrol units. No sirens. Which means the systems were either disabled beforehand or someone made damn sure the authorities never got the call.
Tactical. Efficient. Brutal.
Healer said the clubhouse doors had been blown inward, splintered wood everywhere. Bullet holes peppering every inch of the walls.
The inside looked worse. Blood sprayed across the bar like someone had taken a pressure hose full of it and painted the room.
Furniture overturned. And bodies. Brothers sprawled across tables and floors—some still clutching guns they never got the chance to fire.
Hell’s Army didn’t just hit them. They butchered them, then torched the warehouses for good measure.
If it hadn’t been for Bug, we wouldn’t have known anything until the news started sniffing around the county.
Or God! If we got hit, too.
Bug had pinged Ryder early this morning. Sent everything he could dig up from security and satellite feeds before the signals went dark.
But by the time we heard? The only thing left was cleanup and maybe collecting evidence—if Hell’s Army had been sloppy enough to leave any. Which I highly doubt.
The Reapers are—were—a bigger club than us, even bigger than the Nomads. That’s why losing their alliance a couple of weeks ago had stung so damn much.
Even though we all knew this kind of retaliation was coming eventually, it doesn’t make a difference. Not when dozens of their women and kids are now missing. Not when we all know exactly what kind of hell that usually means.
I hadn’t expected Wolf and Dad to come tearing through the compound looking like ghosts when the news hit. Hair wild. Faces gray.
It wasn’t until I told them Charlotte was probably in her new room that they finally stopped looking like they were about to lose their damn minds. Wolf, at least. Dad? Dad looked like he was about to break.
He couldn’t find Mama anywhere. Panic written all over his face like he’d just been told the world ended.
So I took a guess. Told him she was probably with Charlotte. It was the safest assumption. One I prayed for. Considering Mama had been the first person I texted that morning after leaving Charlotte alone to explore the space.
She’s also the only one who knows what I’ve been doing. Not everything, but enough pieces of it.
I know I should be thinking about what this attack means for us. How we probably need to recalibrate and adjust our plans with Blaze and Mihai.
But all I can think of—all I’ve been thinking since before the damn sun rose—is Charlotte. The way her body caved inward, shaking with near-violent heaves.
My own damn chest exploded when her arms moved, forming a protective shield around her breasts. My knees almost gave out when her other hand slid between her thighs.
I couldn’t stop the apparition of the younger Charlotte forming right in front of me. My mind was playing tricks, because I was suddenly in the main hall. Where the damn lights were not dim enough to hide the sin I’d committed against her.
My masochistic brain reminded me I was simply recalling that horrifying night. Charlotte was reliving it.
I’m yanked out of my spiraling thoughts when I hear the roar of my Prez.
“Church, now!”
I jump up from the couch in the main hall, but my strides are slow and weary. Brothers zip past me, eager to get an update on whatever the hell is happening. I’m slow enough to finally hear multiple engines rumbling outside.
Finally. Healer walks in first, his face stony yet pale. A grim-looking Hound passes him, gaze locked on his hands as he shoves his gloves off.
Spike, Bulldog, and Scar silently walk in behind them, eyes still carrying whatever dread that place instilled in them. They don’t look up at me. No one utters a word.
I sigh heavily, my eyes squeezing shut.
Church finally commences. All the brothers gathered around. Even prospects. And I know why. We can’t run this in isolation anymore.
The large screen behind Wolf shows a proprietary chat thread. And I instantly know Bug is probably connected too.
Wolf quickly explains exactly how we plan to align our forces with the Nomads and Mihai’s men. He’s been busy this past week, coordinating with him and his men.
I’ve barely even seen him. From what I know, he’s been building a secondary and an additional two backup armories in the compound that no one knows about except for me.
Then he says something shocking.
“Mihai Rosca wants us to beef up our numbers. Slowly… discreetly. Blaze already agreed yesterday, and Nomads are already up by three of Mihai’s men.”
A wave of apprehension rolls in. With an all-out war with the Hell’s Army, this is asking too much from the brothers. Trusting the Roscas will not be easy—if not impossible.
Considering they could easily infect our clubs with this excuse of war.
Wolf sighs. “I know it’s asking a lot, but… I don’t see another way out of this. Our club could be next, and… we’re not prepared. Not yet.”
“Are you actually asking, Prez?” I ask, arms crossed.
His head snaps in my direction, but he remains silent. He thinks I’m defying him, or stirring up the status quo. But it’s not that. I need his assertion. We need it.
“Is this a vote?” Ryder asks, breaking the odd standoff.
Wolf hesitates, and I know it’s because these are extenuating circumstances. This usually would be a vote.
“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not a vote. I haven’t confirmed anything with Mihai, but yes. According to him, we can increase our force by at least twenty men within a week.”
A sharp ping sounds. All our gazes snap up to the screen.
Bug: Ask him for Tudor Olaru. No exceptions.
I frown. Bug really does know everyone. Or at least has the ability to dig it up.
Wolf clears his throat. “I will, Bug. Was already planning on it.”
Bug: Sure, you were.
I roll my eyes, itching to get back to the task at hand.
“Healer, Scar,” Wolf looks at them, his face wretched. “Anything to add?”
Ping!
Bug left the chat.
Guess that answers his involvement.
God, I want this done so I can go back and put my eyes on Charlotte again. She’s been in her room—her apartment—ever since we broke the news to her. And I know she’s probably not handling any of this well.
I just… need to be closer. Standing outside her damn door would be enough.
Healer doesn’t speak at first. His jaw works like he’s chewing through something bitter.
So Scar takes over, filling in the gaps. Walking us through what they found—the crumbling state of a compound that had been a fully functioning machine barely a night ago. He runs through the numbers again. The bodies.
Then Healer finally decides to chime in. “Nine brothers dead,” he says flatly. “No sign of the others. No sign of the women or the kids either.”
“If they were taken,” he continues grimly, “then the remaining twenty-something brothers were taken with them.”
A pause.
“The whole compound’s a graveyard, Prez. My medical team wasn’t even needed.”
The desolation in his voice is enough for every single one of us to feel it—the creeping dread of what’s coming.
But we also know something else.
We can’t let it happen to us. To our families. We won’t.
“I want the list of the dead and missing,” Wolf says, turning to Ryder. “Coordinate with Spike.”
Ryder nods once. His gaze holds on Wolf a moment longer than necessary, something sharp and unspoken passing between them.
There’s another order hidden in Wolf’s words. I know it. And Ryder definitely knows it.
Another thirty minutes crawl by before the meeting finally breaks. Chairs scrape. Boots drag across the floor. Everyone walks out slower than they came in. Heavy. Dreary.
Ryder, Healer, and I are the last ones left when Healer’s phone suddenly rings. He frowns down at the screen and answers distractedly, already heading toward the door.
I fall into step behind him.
“Hey, Steph, can I—” He stops so abruptly that I almost slam into his back. His hand tightens around the phone. Knuckles bleaching white. “What?” he snaps into the receiver. “Where are you?” His voice climbs higher with every word. Frantic.
My stomach drops.
Stephanie, his baby sister.
“Is everything—” I start.
Healer lifts a hand sharply, silencing me. “Steph,” he says urgently. “Slow down. I can’t—where are you right now?”
Wolf and Ryder appear behind us almost immediately, drawn by the tension.
“Outside your place?” Healer asks. “What do you mean outside your place? Where exactly?”
His eyes suddenly dart to Ryder, covering the receiver with his palm. “Jackson’s store. She said near the corner. Check cameras—now.”
Ryder already has his phone out, fingers flying across the screen.
“What did you see?” Healer asks into the phone again. “Steph—what did you see?”
Silence on our end while she talks. Healer’s jaw tightens. “You’re sure?” he presses. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Another pause.
“I can come over,” he says quickly but is promptly interrupted. “Fine. Just stay inside. Lock the doors and don’t open them for anyone until I get there.”
Healer finally pulls the phone away from his ear, ending the call with a stiff thumb. For a second, he stands there.
“What is it?” Wolf asks.
Healer doesn’t answer right away. Breathing hard. Something dark and furious simmering behind his eyes. Then he looks at Wolf. “She was attacked. Outside her house,” he says grimly. “Two men.”
Fuck.
“She managed to get away,” he adds. “Ran back inside before they could grab her.”
Then Healer’s voice drops, thick with fury.
His hands curl into fists. “She’s not even part of this life, Wolf.
She’s not an Ol’ Lady. Not a club princess.
Barely anyone knows I’ve got a sister. I made sure of it!
” His jaw ticks hard before his control finally snaps. “So why the hell was she attacked?!”
No one answers him. No one can. Because how the fuck do they know about a woman who should’ve been invisible to this life?
The room goes still—so still I can hear the faint hum of the overhead lights and Ryder’s phone quietly buzzing in his hand.
Wolf drags a slow hand down his face, his expression grim. The realization hits us like a freight train. I can see it.
Dread curls in my chest at the confirmation of our suspicions.
Glory wasn’t the only one, was she?
There’s definitely another traitor in this club. And none of our precautions stopped them.