Chapter 26 #2
Without another word, Jasper steps swiftly back into the hallway.
His expression has shifted, settling into cold determination.
I follow closely, Slate and Mica falling in just behind me, their presence reassuring as we return to the crowded main room.
Jasper’s sharp eyes scan the bar until he finds Onyx and signals for him to join us.
Rock meanders over as well, when Jasper gives his father a firm chin jerk.
Within moments, the six of us gather near a quieter corner, heads bent closely together.
Jasper leans in, his voice low and controlled.
“We need to round up all the prospects immediately. Make it casual. Tell them we need them protecting the womenfolk in order to free up the brothers on watch so we can finalize defensive positions.”
Slate nods sharply. “I’ll handle it. Give me five minutes.”
As Slate disappears into the crowd, Jasper’s hand gently rests on the small of my back, guiding me to a stool nearby. “Stay close, Tessa,” he murmurs. “I need to keep eyes on you until we sort this out. If you recognize the voice, speak up immediately.”
I nod silently, appreciating the firm, reassuring way he takes control. Around us, the bar buzzes with energy, club brothers and guests blissfully unaware of the brewing storm. I keep my gaze steady, trying to mask the tension doubling and tripling as we wait.
Within minutes, Slate returns, leading a line of prospects towards the bar. The younger men look puzzled but obedient, their faces curious yet trusting. Jasper steps forward confidently, nodding once to Slate, who moves behind the prospects, effectively blocking their retreat.
“I want all of you to hand me your cell phones and get on your fucking knees right now,” Jasper commands, his voice quiet but carrying enough authority to silence the entire room instantly. The music stops, leaving the clubhouse eerily silent. When I glance over, all eyes are on us.
Confusion flickers across the prospects’ faces, replaced quickly by wary compliance as they hand over their phones to Slate, Mica, and Onyx and then slowly sink to their knees.
I watch them cast worried glances at one another and try to pick up on any shifty behavior.
Jasper steps closer, expression unreadable, his presence filling the space with quiet menace.
“Hand over all your phones. If any of you have backup or burner phones, I want them now.”
The order hangs heavy in the air, letting them know that Jasper is firmly in charge.
After a brief hesitation, several more phones are passed forward, collected quickly by Mica and Slate.
Jasper signals to Striker and Mitch, who have been watching closely from the edge of the room, laptops in hand.
They move swiftly forward, ready to do whatever Jasper asks.
“I want you to unlock every single phone.”
“Is this about the internal spy?” Mitch asks quietly.
“Yes, it is.”
Jasper’s eyes sweep across the kneeling men. “One of you,” he says slowly, his voice tight with restrained anger, “is betraying us to the Hyenas. And I promise, I’ll know who before the night is done.”
The room seems to hold its breath as Striker and Mitch begin carefully combing through the confiscated phones, fingers flying across their keyboards with grim urgency. Jasper’s eyes remain ever watchful, waiting patiently, dangerously calm amidst the mounting tension.
The silence stretches out for what seems like forever. Queenie comes over to sit beside me. “Are you okay, Tessa?”
I nod. “Yeah, I heard someone betraying the club and I’m supposed to be listening to see if I can recognize his voice.”
Her hand comes out to grasp mine. “I’ll wait with you, honey.”
I almost tear up, realizing all over again how close-knit and supportive Jasper’s family is. I bring out my other hand to cover hers and give her a tired smile. “Thanks, Queenie. I appreciate it more than you know.”
The room is silent, the only sounds the tapping of keys as the club’s IT guy and his friend work.
The prospects remain on their knees, shifting uncomfortably, each one casting nervous glances around the room.
The brothers look on from every corner of the clubhouse, arms crossed, hands near weapons, waiting to see who will be unmasked.
No one speaks. No one moves unless Jasper does.
I sit there and wait as Jasper questions them one by one about where they’ve been the last hour, just outside the prospect line, my hand resting protectively over my belly.
As I’m listening intently to their voices, the baby stirs again.
It makes me wonder if he can sense the tension rolling through my body.
He finishes talking to them and is now mean-mugging them in the worst way.
This man of mine is so angry that I can almost feel the storm building inside him.
Jasper is good under pressure—restrained, level-headed, and clearly has his head screwed on straight.
I have a strange stirring in my gut that whoever this turns out to be will not be walking away from the clubhouse today.
Mitch finally straightens, holding a phone aloft like it’s a smoking gun. “I think I found it,” he states. “This one’s had encrypted call logs that have been forwarded to another phone and then deleted. I pulled them out of his trash.”
Rock grumbles, “Can we get that in English?”
Striker quickly explains. “It looks like he started using his own phone, realized how risky it was, and sent the original contact to a secondary phone.”
Jasper steps forward, slow and deliberate. “Who’s fuckin’ phone is it?”
Striker doesn’t hesitate. “It’s Sam’s phone,” he says, pointing to a lanky prospect near the end of the line. The guy freezes, his mouth parting slightly, eyes flicking around like he might bolt.
“Where’s the fuckin’ burner phone?”
Slate’s boot presses down on the back of the prospect’s shoulder, forcing him to the floor. “Don’t even think about making a run for it,” he growls.
Jasper crouches in front of him, forearms resting on his knees. “Where’s the fuckin’ burner phone? I’ve asked you twice and I don’t like repeatin’ myself.”
Mitch speaks up, “I just pulled the number he forwarded that information to. If he’s got the ringer turned on, we might be able to hear it.”
“Do it,” Jasper growls. “I want to know what’s on that fuckin’ phone.”
Mitch calls the number. “It’s ringing.”
The entire room goes quiet. Jasper says, “What’s that humming noise?”
I jump up out of my seat. “He’s got it on vibrate.”
I listen carefully and follow the sound all the way to the back of the room. Walking up to a pool table, I pull the phone out of the corner pocket and hold it up. “It was vibrating against a couple of balls, or we might have never found it.”
“You’re a good woman, Tessa. Bring it to me.”
I walk back and place the phone in his outstretched hand.
He glances at the other prospects. “The rest of you gather up your phones and get back to work. I’m sorry but we had to be sure who the turncoat was.”
All the other prospects get up and smack the asshole who betrayed them as they walk past to retrieve their phones.
Their expressions turn from worried, to annoyed, and then back to something approaching normal.
I watch as Jasper begins scrolling through the phone.
Without looking up he mutters, “Lock Sam up until I can decide how I want to dispose of him.”
Hearing that sends a chill right down my spine. I swallow thickly, realizing I just helped find the person feeding sensitive information to our enemies—but in doing so, I may have inadvertently helped end his life. That doesn’t sit well with me, not at all.
Sam begins panicking, face already breaking out in a cold sweat. “I didn’t mean to betray the club. I swear. I was told to join up, stay quiet, and report in. That’s it. It was just a job, man.”
I turn my head away, because this prospect is so young, likely barely eighteen or nineteen years old.
I’m having trouble reconciling the scared voice I’m hearing right now with the cold, calculating one I heard when he was reporting confidential information to our enemies earlier.
I can’t help but wonder if he was pretending to be a tough guy earlier or if he’s trying to sound pathetic right now to escape consequences.
I turn to the room. Every eye is on me now.
“Phones back. Eyes up. No one slips through the cracks on my watch. We’ve got incoming. ”
Then I look at myself. I’m still standing in the middle of this room full of outlaws, helping them do what they need to protect themselves from even bigger outlaws. The irony of my situation is not lost on me.
Jasper’s voice rings out, for everyone to hear, “Tessa caught the leak. We all owe her.”
A few of the guys nod towards me. One of them taps a fist to his chest. I recognize it as the plainest and simplest form of respect these men have to offer. And in this moment, it’s enough.
Slate drags the prospect to his feet and punches him in the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs.
Sam doubles over, wheezing. Jasper stays perfectly still, letting the violence happen like it’s just another part of the process.
When they walk him off, I don’t follow. I just stand there, feeling like shit for my part in this situation.