Chapter Twenty
Justice
Smoke drifts through the wrecked gate. The yard looks like a war-zone. Bikes on their sides, windows blown out, blood sprayed across gravel.
Creed’s pacing in the open, gun still in his hand. “Where the fuck was everyone?” he shouts. “Gate duty was covered, so who the hell was covering it?”
No one answers. A few prospects glance at each other, and one looks ready to puke.
“Get the wounded to the med room!” Creed barks. “Move!”
Brothers scatter, boots crunching over shell casings. Reaper wipes blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and grins. “Guess we know the Rivet Knights don’t scare easy.”
Creed rounds on him. “They sure as hell will once I’m done with them.” His gaze sweeps the yard, hard and cold, and lands on me. “Ronan’s still breathing?”
“Yeah, long as he hasn’t bled out. Shot him in the kneecap,” I say.
“I’ll have him locked in the cage,” Winchester adds.
“Good,” Creed snaps. “Nobody touches him until I do.”
The Prez stalks toward the clubhouse, shoulders tight with fury. I fall in behind him.
Devil bursts through the clubhouse doors, tears streaking her face as she launches herself into Creed’s arms. He holds her close but doesn’t drop his weapon. I can’t hear what he whispers, but his eyes are closed, and he buries his face in her neck.
They stay like that for a full minute before Devil slowly pulls back. She nods, wipes her eyes, and disappears inside.
Creed exhales and looks at me. “If anything had happened to her…” He shakes his head and heads inside.
Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have understood what he’s going through, but now, after Jet?
I get it.
Jet has a piece of my heart, and I think a part of me would die with her.
Inside, the smell of antiseptic fights with gunpowder. Blake lies pale and half-patched, wincing on a cot while Lucy works fast with gauze and alcohol.
“My dad’s on his way,” she says, voice tight. “I just need to keep him alive until he gets here.”
I nod and keep moving through the clubhouse until I find Jet.
She wraps her arms around me the second she sees me. “He got away, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” The word tastes like rust. “Hector’s long gone.”
Creed slams his fist into the wall, the sound echoing down the hall. “He drove through our front gate like it was nothing! Someone opened that gate, and I’m gonna find out who.”
Lyric steps forward carefully. “No one opened the gate. Highway said they used explosives and drove on through after the explosion. We’ve got wounded, Creed. Maybe—”
Creed whirls on her. “Don’t tell me to calm down. One of ours sold us out. Why the fuck do they want Jet? What does she know?”
Jet flinches but doesn’t look away. “I—I’m not sure,” she says quietly.
“That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” Creed says, voice still sharp. “He came for you, but he declared war on us.”
Silence stretches.
The Prez looks at me next. “Justice, you’re on her from here on out. Eat, sleep, breathe security. If Sanchez wants her, he’ll have to go through you.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Creed nods once, then heads for the back hall. “Once I’m done with Ronan, we regroup. We hit back.”
He disappears down the corridor, boots heavy on the floorboards.
Jet exhales, the fight draining from her shoulders. “He’s mad.”
Devil, still staring after her man, shakes her head.
“No, love. He’s not mad.” Her voice drops to a whisper.
“He’s Creed—president of this chapter—and someone just declared war on his family.
” Her gaze hardens as she turns toward the yard.
“He’s not mad, Jet. He’s vengeful. And that’s a whole lot worse. ”