Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Finley
The pseudo clubhouse feels like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Every wall in this house seems to vibrate with the sheer amount of kinetic energy pouring off the brothers.
I sit in the corner of the living room, nursing a cup of tea that went cold ten minutes ago, my eyes tracking every movement in the room.
Mercury, Gemini, Orion, Aries, Pisces—they’re all here, moving with a synchronized intensity that I’ve only ever seen in movies.
Tonight isn't a game. The air smells like gun oil, sweat, and impending violence. Sutton slides into the chair next to me, her movements quiet and deliberate. She’s been glued to the medical updates for Skippy, but she’s pulled herself away for a moment.
She offers me a sympathetic smile, the kind that says she knows exactly how I feel because she’s carrying the same burden.
“They’re really going out there tonight,” Sutton murmurs, her gaze fixed on the table where they’re spreading out the topographical maps.
“They have to,” I reply, my voice barely audible over the clatter of gear.
“If they don't find those hunters, the hunters will eventually find us. It’s that simple. There’s no running from this.
By now, they have to know that I survived, which puts a huge target on my back, as well as the club’s.
Plus, they’re aware you’re here too, Sutton.
This is not only to protect us, but everyone in the community. ”
The rest of the Kings roll in within the hour.
Hercules and Midas arrive first, their faces coated in the dry dust of the highway, followed closely by Bootes and Scorpius.
They don’t waste time with pleasantries or handshakes.
They drop their heavy bags on the floor with dull thuds and immediately start checking their gear.
It’s a practiced, rhythmic dance. Everyone knows their specific role in this formation.
Sutton watches them from her position next to me, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She looks fragile, though I know there is steel beneath her skin. “They look like they’re preparing for a war,” Sutton whispers to me.
“They are,” I answer, my eyes scanning the room. “Just not the kind you see on the news. This is personal.”
The clubhouse floorboards creak under the weight of over a dozen men moving with purpose and intention.
The air grows thick with the metallic scent of gun oil and the earthy smell of leather.
Orion’s sharpening his knife, the rhythmic rasping sound cutting through the low murmur of voices.
Aries’s busy organizing the radio frequencies, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
“Do you think they have enough supplies?” Sutton asks, her voice brittle.
“They have more than enough,” I reply. “They’ve been planning this for weeks.
They’re not going out there to play games.
” We retreat to the corner of the room to give them space.
It is easier to talk where the chatter is quieter.
Sutton is still clearly shaken, her focus shifting between the medical bags and the tactical gear.
“I keep thinking about the what ifs,” Sutton admits, looking toward Gemini as he buckles his vest. “What if they find more than they bargained for? What if the bunkers are trapped with something worse than sensors?”
“Then they fight,” I declare, my voice firm. “They’re Kings. That’s what they do. If we sit here and worry about every possible outcome, we’ll drive ourselves mad. We have to be the stable ones, Sutton. They need to know we’re holding things down here.”
She nods slowly, though her gaze remains fixed on Gemini. “I know. It’s just hard to watch them leave knowing what’s waiting in those woods. I wish we could do more than just monitor the radio.”
“We’re doing plenty,” I assure her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re their safety net. That’s just as important as the ones running the mission.”
Across the room, Mercury stands near the back door checking the action on his rifle with a focus that makes my skin prickle.
He looks like a stranger in this light, his features hardened into a mask of pure intent.
He catches my eye and holds the gaze. There’s no warmth in it, just a quiet, heavy acknowledgement of what lies ahead.
He walks over to us, his boots silent on the floor.
“We’re moving out,” he says, his voice flat.
“Stay safe,” Sutton tells him.
“I intend to,” he replies. She gives him a quick hug before rushing over to Gemini so they can have their moment.
The men file out the back door in a single, efficient line.
The sound of their heavy boots on the porch is like a drumbeat.
I follow Mercury to the threshold. The cold night air rushes in, carrying the scent of wilderness.
He pauses, his hand hovering over the door handle.
The intensity in his eyes softens just a fraction.
“I need you to stay by the phone,” he says, his tone shifting. “Lelanie’s going to guide us to the meeting point, but we might lose signal once we hit the deep ravines. If Daniel calls or if anything happens, write it down."
“I will,” I promise.
He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing my cheek. The contact is electric. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes for a fleeting second. “I have to go, wildcat,” he says, his voice dropping to a low rasp.
“I know,” I whisper, following him toward his motorcycle. “But you have to promise me you’ll stay safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“I’m not going to throw my life away,” he assures me, pulling his hand back.
“I have too much waiting for me back here.” He leans over me and gives me a passionate kiss that has me reaching out and grabbing him by the lapels of his leather riding jacket.
As we pull apart, he hauls me into his arms and gives me a backbreaking hug.
Reluctantly, he steps back and eats the distance between him and his bike, swinging his legs over the saddle and mounting it before hitting the throttle, the engine roaring to life with a defiant, throaty growl.
I watch as the others mount up. The yard is suddenly filled with the rumble of engines, a vibration that rattles my chest. Mercury looks back at me one last time, his visor down, before he taps the handlebars and signals for the pack to get into formation behind Gemini so they can move out.
They tear out of the lot, their taillights blinking into the darkness like distant, dying stars. I watch them until the last one disappears around the bend. The silence that rushes back into the yard is heavy and suffocating.
Sutton walks over to me, tears streaming down her cheeks and states, “They’re gone.”
“Yes,” I reply. “Now the waiting begins.”
We walk back into the house. It feels different now, emptier. The maps are still on the table, marked with the coordinates of the death trap they found. I look at them, then at the silent phone sitting in the center of the table.
“Let's get the house locked up,” I say, my voice steadying. “We've got a job to do, even if we're not the ones on the bikes.”
We move through the rooms, closing windows and locking doors.
It feels like a ritual, a way to seal our little world off from the nightmare outside.
By the time we finish, the house is completely dark save for the small lamp on the desk near the transmission radio.
We got a crash course on how to use it, which is good because I’m not the most technologically proficient person on the planet.
I sit down in the chair by the radio, my eyes locked on the telephone. The minutes tick by, long and agonizing. Every shadow in the room seems to shift, every creak of the house sounds like a footstep.
“I'm going to check the perimeter again,” I say, standing up.
“You just checked it,” Sutton reminds me.
“I know,” I say. “It makes me feel better.”
I walk through the house, my hand trailing along the wall.
I think of Mercury, moving through the deep woods with Lelanie leading the way.
I imagine them creeping along the ridgelines, watching for traps, navigating the maze of the forest. I hope they're careful.
I hope they know how much I need them to succeed.
I return to the desk and pick up my notebook.
I start writing, cataloging every detail I can remember about the men who held me.
I want to be ready when the chief calls.
I want to be the one who gives them the piece of information that finally tears this whole organization down.
The house is quiet, but my mind's a storm.
I can see the hunters waiting in the dark.
I can see the traps laid in the dirt. I can see the danger closing in around the men I love.
I hold my breath, listening to the silence, praying for the sound of the phone, praying for the return of the pack.
The darkness outside is total. There's no moon, no light, just the vast, uncaring wilderness.
Somewhere out there, the hunt's beginning.
And I'm here, holding the line, watching the clock, waiting for the world to turn back to the way it was.
I lean back in the chair and look at the ceiling. The radio emits a faint, constant static. It's a lonely sound. I close my eyes and imagine Mercury, his face set, his eyes sharp, moving through the trees like a ghost. He's out there, and he's fighting for us.
“Come home,” I whisper into the empty room. “Come home to me.”
The night drags on. The static on the radio is the only thing keeping me grounded. I watch the phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for the voice of the chief, waiting for the end of this nightmare. I'm the one waiting, but I'm not just a bystander anymore. I'm part of this. I'm in the fight.
And I'll be here, wide awake, until the sun rises and they ride back into the yard.
The silence of the clubhouse is deep, but it's not empty.
It's filled with the weight of the mission, with the ghosts of the past, and with the hope of the future.
I'm waiting, but I'm ready. I'm ready for the call.
I'm ready for the truth. And I'm ready for them to come back, so we can finally, once and for all, finish what we started.
I lean forward, the glow of the desk lamp illuminating the map on the table.
The trail to the meeting point is marked clearly.
Lelanie's leading them now. She knows the land better than anyone.
I trust her. I have to trust her. She's their eyes now.
She's the one who'll lead them through the maze of the mountains.
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart.
I'm Finley, and I'm a survivor. I'm the one who saw the hunters, and I'm the one who'll see them brought to justice.
The chase is on, the hunters are now the prey, and we're the ones who're going to win it.
I pick up my pen, ready to write down the next chapter.
The silence in the house is broken only by the scratching of my pen on paper, a steady, rhythmic sound that keeps the fear at bay.
I keep writing, keep planning, keep waiting.
The dawn's coming, and with it, the answers.
I'm ready. I'm waiting. And I'm not going anywhere.