Chapter 10
Wrath
I scan the crowd for the third time when the first thread of unease pulls tight in my gut.
I cut Steel off mid-sentence and push through the crowd toward the bar. Trix is mixing drinks, laughing with Diesel over the music.
"Where's Cami?"
Trix's smile drops at my tone. "Outside, I think. Lizzie said she looked overwhelmed and went out to the side patio for some fresh air. But that was maybe fifteen minutes ago.”
Fifteen minutes. Too long. Way too fucking long.
I'm moving before Trix finishes speaking, shoving through the crowd with enough force to knock people aside. Someone's drink hits the floor. I don't stop. The music's too loud, everyone's too drunk, too distracted. I let my guard down.
The side door is open an inch. Not unusual—members come and go all night during parties. But every instinct I've honed over two decades in this life screams that something's wrong.
I step onto the patio. Empty.
Her scent lingers, as familiar as my own, but she's not here. I scan the small space, the chairs, the railing. Nothing out of place except—
My heart stops.
I'm across the patio in two strides, dropping to my knees to study the scuff marks at the edge of the concrete. Drag marks? Could be.
Something glints in the dirt near the fence. I cross the space and crouch down. Her phone—her fucking phone. The screen is cracked like someone stepped on it.
The world narrows to a pinpoint. All I hear is the roaring of blood in my ears. Hours ago I gave my patch to my woman in front of the whole club, vowing protection, now she's fucking gone.
"STEEL!" The roar tears from my chest. "GET OUT HERE NOW!"
The clubhouse erupts behind me. Brothers pour through the door, hands already reaching for weapons at the tone in my voice. They've heard me angry before. They've seen me violent. But this? This is different.
Steel appears with Diesel and Tank flanking him. His eyes land on the cracked phone in my hand, and his face hardens into pure granite.
"She's gone." My voice sounds hollow. Dead. "Someone fucking took her."
"Lock the place down,” Steel barks. "Nobody leaves."
"VP!" The shout comes from the direction of the gate. Young prospect called Tiny comes running, blood streaming from a gash on his temple. He's stumbling, one hand pressed to his head, the other clutching his ribs.
I'm on him before he finishes his next breath, fisting his shirt and dragging him close. "What happened?"
"They jumped me." He's barely coherent. His eyes won't focus. "Three of them. I tried to stop —"
"Who?” I shake him hard enough his teeth rattle.
"Iron Serpents."
I drop him. He sways. Steel catches the kid. I'm already moving toward my bike.
"Wrath. Stop." Steel's voice cracks like a whip.
Diesel blocks my path. "Get the fuck out of my way."
"Church. Now." Steel calls. Behind him, Bulldog and Tank spread out, ready to tackle me if necessary. "Five minutes."
"We don't have five fucking minutes!" I can hear my voice rising, feel control slipping. "Every second they're getting farther away. They could be hurting her right now and you want to call fucking church?"
Steel steps close. "You go off half-cocked, you get her killed. You know that. I know you know that because I taught you better." His hand grips my shoulder hard enough to hurt. "So breathe, brother. We do this smart, we get her back alive."
His words cut through my rage. My body screams to move, to chase, to kill. But he's right.
I force myself to nod.
Five minutes feels like five hours. Prospects lock down the compound. Old ladies hustle into the main building. Weapons appear from hidden caches—guns, knives, enough firepower to start a war.
I stand in the parking lot clutching her broken phone and breathe. In. Out. Each breath tastes like fear and failure.
This morning she woke up in my arms. I watched her sleep before dawn, memorizing every detail of her beautiful face. The way her hair spread across my pillow. Her soft breaths. The small smile when I kissed her awake.
"Good morning, Rhett. Last night was perfect."
Perfect. Now she's terrified. Hurt. Alone.
Because of me.
"Wrath." Jigsaw touches my elbow. "We're ready."
Every patched member crowds the chapel. No formality. No gavel. Just hard men ready for blood and vengeance, watching their VP barely hold it together.
"Intel." Steel's voice cuts through the tension. "What do we know about Iron Serpent movements?"
Tank speaks first, consulting his phone. "Not much. They've been asking questions at her old jobs."
"Why?" I force the question through clenched teeth. "What the fuck do they want with her?"
Jigsaw shakes his head, his face grim. "Makes no sense. They pulled out of the trade negotiations with no explanation and started treating us like some kind of lepers. That alliance would have benefitted them as much as us."
"And now this?" Tank adds, his fist pounding the table. "Kidnapping a fucking ol' lady right from under our noses. Right from our own fucking clubhouse.”
The table erupts. Fists slam wood. Curses fly. Someone kicks a chair so hard it splinters against the wall.
But I've gone completely silent. Still.
In my mind, I'm seeing Cami as she was two hours ago—wearing my vest, my claim, dancing in my arms. Laughing when I whispered dirty promises in her ear. Safe. Happy. Mine.
And now she's in the hands of another club.
My hands curl into fists so tight my knuckles crack. Blood pounds in my ears like a war drum. Fifteen years I've been the club's VP. Doing what needed to be done without hesitation. I've broken bones and taken lives and never lost sleep over it because those men deserved what they got.
But this? This is different.
This isn't club business or territory disputes or teaching lessons. This is my woman. My Cami. The girl who falls asleep in my arms trusting me to keep her safe.
And I failed her.
"Wrath." Steel's hand on my shoulder. "Stay with me, brother. I need you here."
I meet his eyes, and whatever he sees there makes him flinch.
Good. He should be afraid. Everyone should be afraid.
Because every bit of control that keeps me leashed, every scrap of humanity that separates me from the true psychopaths—it's gone.
Burned away in the image of Cami scared and hurting while some sick fuck puts his hands on her.
"I'm going to kill every single one of them.
" My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's the voice I use right before I do things that give prospects nightmares.
"Every. Single. One. And Viper?" I smile a sinister grin when I think of what I'm going to do with the president of the Iron Serpents.
"He dies slow. So slow he'll beg me for death long before I grant it. "
"Understood." Steel doesn't try to talk me down, doesn't preach restraint.
He knows better. "But first we get her back alive.
That's priority one. Everything else comes after.
" He addresses the room. "This is a recovery mission first, revenge second.
We go in smart—two teams. First team locates and extracts Cami.
Second team provides cover and handles any Serpents who try to stop us. "
"Their compound is in the old industrial district," Diesel adds, pulling up a map on his phone. "Converted factory. Multiple buildings, good sight lines, secure perimeter. It's a fucking fortress."
"Then we bring overwhelming force." Steel's expression could cut glass. "Every patched member rides. Call in every favor we have—Phoenix charter, Tucson, even the boys from Flagstaff. By the time we hit that compound, we outnumber them three to one and outgun them ten to one."
The planning continues around me—entry points, weapons distribution, extraction routes, contingency plans. I absorb the details with the part of my brain that's an expert at strategizing.
But the rest of me is somewhere else. I'm remembering every moment with Cami. Her shy smile when I first saw her, soaking wet and terrified. The way she flinched from kindness like it might be a trap. How she slowly opened up, trusting me with pieces of her broken soul. My broken angel.
The Iron Serpents made a fatal mistake when they touched what's mine.
Hold on, baby. I'm coming. And God have mercy on anyone who stands between me and you.
Because I sure as fuck won't.