Chapter 8
EIGHT
DAGGER
Harlan and I work side by side through it all, figuring out how to get the club back on track. He’s sharp, quick to adapt, and doesn’t flinch when things get rough. He trusts his gut, but he listens to reason, which makes him a good leader. That doesn’t mean we always agree. We butt heads more than a few times, but we’ve got enough respect for each other to hash it out. Somehow, it works.
One of the toughest situations we face is with Rigs. He’s one of the rogues Harlan mentioned early on, but we don’t realize just how deep he’s in until one of the younger guys overhears something he shouldn’t have. The kid, Max, comes to me, wide-eyed and shaking.
“Rigs is feeding intel to the Serpents,” he says, his voice low. “I heard him on the phone last night. He’s giving them details about our shipments, man.”
“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “You sure about this?”
Max nods frantically. “Yeah. He was bragging about it to someone, saying the Serpents are gonna owe him big.”
I head straight to Harlan’s office, where he’s hunched over a pile of papers. The second I tell him, his face darkens, and he slams his fist on the desk.
“That bastard,” he growls, standing and pacing like a caged animal. “We can’t let this slide, Dagger. If the rest of the club finds out and we don’t handle it, we’re finished.”
“I agree,” I say, leaning against the desk. “But we’ve gotta be smart about it. If we go in guns blazing, we risk making things worse.”
Harlan stops pacing and looks at me, his jaw tight. “So what do you suggest?”
“We take him somewhere neutral,” I say. “Somewhere he won’t feel cornered right away. If we can get him to talk, we might be able to use what he knows to shut the Serpents down for good.”
He considers this, his eyes narrowing. “Alright. But if he doesn’t talk, we handle it our way. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I say.
We spend hours hashing out the details. Where to take Rigs, who to bring along, how to make sure it doesn’t blow up in our faces. By the time we’re done, the plan is airtight—or as close to it as we can get.
The next day, we lure Rigs to an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. It’s just me, Harlan, and two of his most trusted guys, Axe and Bishop. Rigs walks in like he owns the place, his cocky grin fading when he sees the four of us waiting.
“What’s this about?” he asks, his voice steady, but his eyes dart around the room.
“You tell us,” Harlan says, his tone ice-cold. “Word is, you’ve been talking to the Serpents.”
Rigs laughs nervously, shaking his head. “Come on, Harlan. You really gonna believe that crap?”
Harlan takes a step forward, his fists clenched. “You calling me a liar?”
“Hey, hey,” Rigs says, holding up his hands. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying whoever told you that is full of shit.”
I step in then, my voice calm but firm. “Cut the crap, Rigs. We know you’ve been feeding them intel. We’ve got people who heard you. Now, you can either talk to us, or we can do this the hard way.”
Rigs glares at me, his bravado slipping. “You don’t have anything on me.”
“Maybe not,” I say, taking a step closer, “but we’ve got enough to make your life a living hell. And trust me, the Serpents won’t be there to bail you out when we’re done.”
He shifts on his feet, his eyes flicking to Harlan, who’s still glaring daggers at him. “Alright, fine,” he snaps. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to them. But it’s not what you think. They’ve been pushing me for intel. Said they’d leave me alone if I gave them something small.”
“Bullshit,” Harlan growls. “You sold us out for protection.”
Rigs flinches but doesn’t deny it. “Look, I didn’t think it would go this far, alright? I thought they’d back off, but they kept asking for more.”
“And you gave it to them,” I say, my voice low.
He nods, looking at the floor. “Yeah. I did.”
Harlan steps forward, towering over him. “You just cost this club more than you’ll ever understand. So here’s how this is gonna work. You’re done. Out. And you’re gonna give us every single piece of information you’ve got on the Serpents before you walk out that door.”
Rigs hesitates, but one look at Harlan’s face tells him he doesn’t have a choice. He spills everything—locations, names, deals—and by the time he’s done, we’ve got enough to cripple the Serpents’ operations in the area.
Harlan nods at Axe and Bishop, and they escort Rigs out. “If I see you around here again,” Harlan calls after him, “you’re dead. Got it?”
Rigs doesn’t look back.
We hit the Serpents hard over the next few weeks. Stash houses, delivery routes, everything Rigs told us about. They’re not expecting the coordinated assault, and it doesn’t take long before they’re licking their wounds and backing off.
By the time we’re done, the rogues are out, the Serpents are in shambles, and the Iron Valkyries are stronger than they’ve been in months. The club pulls together, the fence-sitters fall in line, and Harlan’s crew starts to feel like a brotherhood again.
Through it all, Harlan and I keep working together, balancing each other out. He’s fire, and I’m ice. He pushes, I pull back. It’s not always smooth, but it gets the job done.
When we finally sit down for a drink one night, Harlan raises his glass to me. “Couldn’t have done it without you, brother,” he says.
I nod, clinking my glass against his. “You could’ve. But it would’ve been a hell of a lot messier.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You ever think about sticking around? Patching over?”
I pause, considering it. The Valkyries feel like home in a lot of ways, but there’s one thing pulling me back to Jackson.
“I’ve got unfinished business,” I say.
Harlan studies me for a moment, then nods. “Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you’ve got a place here.”
“Appreciate that,” I say, meaning it.
Harlan assesses me before talking. “You gotta know, you’re leaving Mason hanging right now. You’re his VP, and you’re not there. That’s not sitting well with him.”
I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over my face. “I know. I just... I don’t know how to go back without him losing his shit the second I show up. Or worse, him killing me on sight.”
Harlan lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re probably right. But if you ask me, you’re overthinking it. Call him. You might be surprised by how it goes.”
I finish the last of my beer, knowing he’s right. It’s time to stop dodging this. Time to man up.
Walking outside, the cool night air hits me, and I dig my phone out of my pocket. I stare at Mason’s name on the screen for a second, then press the call button and hold it to my ear.
It doesn’t even ring twice before he answers, his voice sharp and pissed. “What?”
“Shit, man. Good to talk to you too,” I say, trying to keep it light, though my chest feels tight as hell.
“Dagger,” he snaps. “I’m dealing with a lot of shit down here. My VP ghosted me, but I’m too damn stubborn to find another. You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on, or what?”
“Fuck, Mase, I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “I know I left you in a shitty spot.”
“You should be fucking sorry!” he yells. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Holding this club together while you’re off God knows where? I’ve been cleaning up your mess and mine, and you didn’t even bother to explain why the hell you left!”
I close my eyes, his words hitting harder than I want to admit. “I know. I fucked up.”
“You’re damn right you did!” he snaps. “You’re my best friend, Dag. My brother. You don’t just walk away like that without a reason. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
I take a deep breath, knowing there’s no backing out of this now. “I left because of Chloe.”
There’s dead silence on the other end of the line.
“What about Chloe?” Mason finally asks, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through steel.
“I slept with her,” I say, the words falling out like stones. “At the wedding. Then I bailed because I didn’t know what the fuck to do. She’s too young, Mase. I didn’t want to screw things up worse than I already had.”
The silence stretches, and I brace myself for him to blow up.
Instead, he sighs heavily. “Jesus Christ, Dagger. You’re a goddamn idiot.”
“I know,” I mutter, my jaw tightening.
“And a coward,” he adds.
“Yeah, I figured that out too.”
There’s a pause before Mason speaks again, his tone firm. “Get your ass back to Jackson. We’re not hashing this out over the phone. You’ve got shit to explain, and we’re dealing with this in person. You hear me?”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “I hear you.”
“Good,” he snaps, then hangs up.
I stare at the phone for a second, letting the weight of the conversation settle in. Harlan was right—I’ve been running. But it’s time to stop.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and head inside to tell Harlan I’m leaving. Jackson’s waiting, and I’ve got a hell of a lot to make right.