Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dodge
I step out into the thick morning air, the scent of exhaust and damp grass clinging to my skin. My brothers are gathered, shadows of men with secrets etched into their weary faces. I look at them, my voice a low rasp that demands the truth. “Talk to me. What do you know that I don't?”
Rebel doesn't blink. His expression is a wall of cold stone, eyes hardened by years of looking at things most people can't stomach. “There was a fucker scouting the perimeter when we rolled in,” he says, his tone flat and dangerous. “Someone's been watching you.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. I clench my jaw so tight it aches, the familiar heat of anger bubbling up in my chest. “Give me every damn detail you've got,” I growl, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“Don’t know much right now,” Rebel admits, a dark flash of frustration crossing his features. “Speed and Creeper snatched him up. They dragged his sorry ass off to that old highway warehouse. They're going to squeeze every bit of information out of him until there's nothing left but the truth."
A grim sense of satisfaction settles over me.
“That property turned out to be a hell of an investment,” I mutter under my breath.
I remember that day clearly. I was riding hard, taking the long way here just to feel the wind in my face.
I found that deserted, rotting structure and saw the potential in its isolation.
I knew the club would need a place where the world couldn't hear the screams. My instincts are never wrong, and right now, they're screaming for blood.
Rebel gives a nod of agreement. “I didn't get why you wasted good money on that dump back then,” he says, his voice dropping an octave as the gravity of the situation sinks in. “But today, I'm damn glad you did.”
Cobra clears his throat, asking, “Do you want any of us to head over there and keep you in the loop, pres?” I look at him, my pulse thrumming with a dark, steady rhythm.
The air feels heavy, charged with the kind of violence that hasn't broken yet.
I don't answer right away. I let the silence stretch, forcing them to feel the weight of what's coming.
My brothers stand like statues around me, waiting for the word.
We don't play games when someone invades our space.
We handle it. The warehouse is waiting, and so is the blood.
“Yeah,” I reply. “First things first, though, I need the whole property line double-checked. The fact that some bastard managed to breach my defenses doesn't sit well with me.”
Rebel nods, his jaw tight. He turns to the guys, already barking orders to get the grounds locked down. They move fast, silent, and efficiently like the predators they are. Nobody messes with this club and walks away without paying a price.
I don't wait for them to finish. Each passing second drags like an hour.
Being here, surrounded by the familiar scent of oil and raw earth, usually grounds me.
Now, it feels like a cage. My skin crawls with the need for motion.
I turn on my heel and walk toward my ride.
The heavy leather of my vest pulls at my shoulders.
It's a weight I'm used to, but today it drags me down.
My bike waits, silent and cold. My fingers itch for the worn rubber of the handlebars.
I need the deafening roar of the engine to drown out the doubt screaming in my mind.
I’m conflicted, on one hand I want to get answers for myself, but on the other hand, I can’t leave the family depending on me to keep them safe.
“Stay sharp,” I instruct them, realizing that my presence is more valuable here on the home front.
“We've got it covered, Pres,” Rebel answers, his face set in a grim mask.
“I need answers, Rebel,” I order. “If bringing them here has put my mom in harm's way, I need to know immediately so I can take action to protect her.”
“I know the drill, Dodge. We won’t let anything happen to Miranda. She’s like a mother to all of us.”
I nod, the tension in my shoulders easing just a hair. He’s right. Mom is the soul of this family, and anyone who thinks they can use her as a pawn is about to find out exactly how much hell I can raise.
“Good,” I say, the word grounding me. I glance at Rebel one last time. His gaze remains steady. I know he won't let me down.
“Keep the lines open,” I tell him, my voice cutting through the rumble. “I want a status update the second you hear anything from the guys at the warehouse. No matter the hour.”
“You'll have it,” Rebel promises. Stepping back, I watch as he, Cobra, and Pyre fire up their bikes to execute their orders.
Rebel and Pyre roar off to run a sweep of the perimeter, checking the entire property line for any signs of a breach.
Meanwhile, Cobra rides out to observe Creeper and Speed while they work so he can feed me updates on the interrogation.
With the others deployed, Hulk keeps himself right next to me, providing an extra layer of defense to keep Adalynn and the kids safe.
Adalynn comes out and searches for the others, her nose wrinkling in confusion when she only spots me and Hulk. When her face lands on mine, she says, “Breakfast is ready.”
“We’ll be in shortly,” I tell her, which earns me a nod before she heads back into the house.
Hulk calls out, “Pres?” When I turn to look at him, he asks, “Those kids are so young. Will they be able to get through this unscathed?”
I snort and say, “Kids are resilient, Hulk. They don't carry the weight of the world like we do. They'll bounce back from this, as long as we keep the danger far away from them.”
“From where I’m standing, that doesn’t seem possible,” he grumbles.
“They’ll see and hear things. We can’t protect them from that,” I mutter, looking toward the house where Adalynn and the kids are safe for now.
“But we can make damn sure that whatever danger comes their way, we stand as a wall between them and the worst of this world. We keep them safe, Hulk. No matter what it takes.”
Hulk shifts his stance. He stares at the siding of the house. His broad shoulders slump just a fraction. “Kids are my kryptonite,” he admits. It is the first time I hear a crack in his armor. He looks back at the house, his eyes clouding with memories that aren't pretty.
I lean against my bike, crossing my arms across my chest and keeping a neutral look on my face. I don't rush him. I know how it feels to carry ghosts. I ask, “There a story there you care to share with me, Hulk?”
He glances my way. A muscle in his jaw jumps. He looks like he's chewing on words he's kept locked in a box for years. “It isn't a light one, Pres,” he mutters. “And it isn't the kind of thing you just throw around out here.”
I nod slowly. “We're family here. You keep things inside, they fester. They rot you from the inside out.”
He grunts, a harsh sound that vibrates in his deep chest. He looks like he's deciding if he can trust me with the truth. “They deserve better than this life,” he finally says, his voice barely rising above the wind. “I lost someone who didn't have a choice.”
I feel the weight of his words settle in the air between us. “You don't have to carry that alone anymore,” I tell him. “Not in this club. If you want to talk, I'm listening.”
Hulk stares off into the distance for a long beat.
The wind kicks up, swirling dust around our feet.
He doesn't look at me when he finally speaks.
His voice sounds stripped raw. “She was just a girl. A girl who had no business being in my world. I thought I could keep her safe by keeping her close. I was wrong. I was so damn wrong.”
I know that pain. It’s the kind of regret that burns holes in a man's soul. I reach out and clap a hand on his shoulder. It’s a solid, grounding gesture.
“You’re here now, Hulk,” I say, my tone firm. “You’ve got a family who would bleed for you. We don't live in the past. We survive the present.”
He nods, a sharp, jerky motion. He squares his shoulders, shaking off his past for the moment. “You’re right. We have a job to do.”
“Exactly,” I agree. I turn my back on the house, my focus shifting back to the threat looming on the edge of our world. “Let's make sure nothing happens to ruin the life we've built here. Stay alert. If you see anything out of place, I want to know before it gets within a mile of this property.”
“You got it, Pres,” he vows, his eyes turning hard again.
We stand there in silence for a few minutes, two sentinels watching over the only life that matters.
The morning light starts to hit the tree line, and for a split second, the world feels almost normal.
But I know better. Normal is a lie we tell ourselves to sleep at night.
Out here, we live on the edge of the blade.
Tonight, that blade is sharper than ever.
Turning back toward him just as I started to head inside, I say, “I'm here if you ever need to talk about her, Hulk. I have a good ear. Even if I don't always have the perfect words to offer, I can at least help you lighten the load and get it off your chest.”
Hulk nods, a slow, solemn movement that tells me he appreciates the gesture, even if he isn't ready to spill his guts right now. He watches me for a second, then pulls his gaze away, focusing on the house again.
“Thanks, Pres,” he murmurs. His voice is quieter now, stripped of the jagged edge it held before. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“Do that,” I reply. Stepping inside, the sudden warmth of the house hits me like a physical weight, and Adalynn's voice drifts through the opening.
The rich scent of coffee fills the air, standing in sharp contrast to the cold, hard reality waiting just outside the door.
I pause, taking a long breath to force the tight tension from my spine.
These people need me to be their rock. If I crack, the entire foundation will crumble.