Savage Loyalty (Crimson Reapers MC #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

RYDER

"H e’s not going to make it."

Torch’s voice broke through the storm, each word cutting like a blade. The pounding rain blurred the scene around us, washing the blood and mud into the cracks of the highway, but it couldn’t wash away the weight pressing down on my chest. Brick lay sprawled on the ground, his massive frame soaked through, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. The gash across his stomach was deep, jagged, and cruel—a wound meant to kill slowly.

We were on Old Mill Road, a stretch of asphalt that might as well have been forgotten by the rest of the world. The cracked pavement wove through the countryside, past broken-down barns and overgrown grass fields before disappearing into the thick woods bordering the southern edge of Reaper territory. It wasn’t the kind of place anyone stumbled onto by accident. If you were out here, you had a purpose. And Brick’s purpose had been clear—at least to him.

He’d gone looking for signs of the Vipers.

It wasn’t an official order. I hadn’t sent him, and neither had Grim. Brick had volunteered for tonight’s ride, claiming he’d picked up on something the rest of us had missed. Rumors and whispers about the Vipers expanding beyond their usual stomping grounds. Most of the club had dismissed it. Axel Cruz, the Vipers’ president, was an arrogant son of a bitch, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew the Reapers would retaliate if he tried to push into our turf.

Brick didn’t see it that way. “Axel doesn’t care about consequences,” he’d said last night, his voice sharp with conviction. “He’s always been reckless, and the second we underestimate him, he’s gonna use it against us.”

That was Brick—always watching, always waiting for someone to make a move. He was the kind of man who believed every shadow hid a knife, and maybe he wasn’t wrong. The Vipers had been quiet lately—too quiet. Brick thought that meant they were planning something, and knowing Axel, it wasn’t far-fetched.

But Old Mill Road wasn’t Viper territory. It wasn’t even close. That’s why the rest of us hadn’t worried about it. If Axel were planning something, it wouldn’t start out here, on the fringes of nowhere.

Except now Brick was bleeding out in the rain because of it.

“They knew he’d be here,” I muttered, scanning the dark edges of the highway. The rain made it hard to see anything beyond the faint glow of the streetlights, but my gut told me the bastards who’d done this were long gone. “They planned this.”

Torch shifted behind me, his boots squelching in the mud. “How? How the hell did they know Brick would be out here?”

It was a question I didn’t want to answer. Brick hadn’t broadcast his route to anyone except me and Grim, and we hadn’t exactly shouted it from the rooftops. But someone else could have known someone who wasn’t supposed to.

“They either got lucky,” I said, my voice flat, “or someone tipped them off.”

Torch froze. “A mole?”

The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t respond, but I didn’t have to. Torch wasn’t stupid. Neither was I. Loyalty was the backbone of any club, but money had a way of corroding even the strongest bonds. If someone had sold us out to the Vipers—or worse, the Serpents—it would explain how they’d known Brick would be here, alone and vulnerable.

But this wasn’t just a hit. It wasn’t just about taking one of us out. The way they’d done it—the brutality, the precision—was deliberate. They didn’t just want to kill him. They wanted us to feel it. They could’ve shot him clean and left him for dead, but they didn’t. They’d gone for the stomach, slow and messy, ensuring he’d have just enough time to bleed out and spill the truth. They wanted him to get back to us, to tell us who’d done it.

They wanted us to know they could reach us, even out here, on a road most people didn’t know existed.

“Fuck,” Torch muttered behind me, his voice tight. “So what now? If it’s the Vipers?—”

“It’s not just the Vipers,” I cut him off. “They don’t hit like this. Axel’s reckless, yeah, but this? This is calculated.”

Torch stared at me, his expression darkening. “You think it’s the Serpents too?”

I glanced back down at Brick. His bloodied cut, his almost lifeless face, the sheer violence of his murder—it all pointed to one thing. An alliance. The Vipers and the Serpents, working together. Two clubs that hated each other now united against us. The idea made my stomach turn.

“They didn’t just want to kill Brick,” I said. “They sent a message. And if we don’t send one back, they’re gonna think they can do this to all of us.”

“He’s going to make it,” I growled, more to myself than Torch. My hand hovered uselessly over the blood-soaked leather of Brick’s cut. I wasn’t a medic. Hell, even if I was, nothing short of a miracle could fix what they’d done to him. But I couldn’t accept it. Not yet. Not Brick.

“Stay with me, brother,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “You’re not dying here. Tell me who did this.”

His lips trembled, his head shifting weakly toward me. I leaned in closer, the rain dripping off my soaked hair and hitting his face, but he didn’t flinch. That wasn’t Brick. Even dying, he wouldn’t give the bastards who did this the satisfaction of seeing him in pain.

“Wraith...” His voice was thin, broken, barely audible over the roar of the storm.

“I’m here,” I said, gripping his hand like I could hold him here just a little longer. “Talk to me, brother. Who was it?”

His chest heaved, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes cracked open, glassy and distant, but there was something sharp behind them—a spark of urgency. His lips moved again, forming words I had to strain to hear.

“Serpents...” he rasped. “And the Vipers.”

The words hit me like a freight train. The Iron Serpents and the Black Vipers? Working together? That didn’t make any sense. Those two clubs hated each other almost as much as they hated us. An alliance between them was unthinkable, but Brick wasn’t the type to talk shit, not even on his deathbed.

“You’re sure?” I demanded, my grip on his hand tightening. “You’re telling me they’re working together?”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he was already gone. Then his head rolled to the side, his voice coming in broken fragments. “They want... everything,” he croaked. “Territory... power... They’re coming for... all of it.”

The rain seemed colder now, each drop biting into my skin as the weight of his words settled in my chest. Territory. Power. All of it. The Crimson Reapers weren’t just another club. We were kings in this region. Everything we had, we’d built through blood, sweat, and sacrifice. If the Serpents and Vipers thought they could take that from us, they were about to find out just how wrong they were.

“They’ll come for you next,” Brick whispered. His grip faltered, his fingers slipping from mine. His glassy eyes fixed on me one last time, and for the first time in all the years I’d known him, I saw fear there. Not for himself—Brick wasn’t afraid to die. This fear was for us. For what was coming.

“Watch... your back... Wraith.”

His chest rose one last time, then fell still. The rain poured on, relentless and unforgiving, washing the blood from his face. His hand went limp in mine, and just like that, he was gone.

For a long moment, I didn’t move. The storm raged around me, but all I could hear was the pounding of my pulse and Brick’s final words echoing in my head. Serpents and Vipers. Territory and power. Coming for us all.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out, raw and venomous. I wasn’t the sentimental type—hadn’t been since the day I first put on this cut—but this wasn’t just about Brick. This was about what his death meant. It was a warning, plain and simple. And I wasn’t the type to take warnings lying down.

“Wraith?”

Torch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He was standing a few feet back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his boots shifting nervously in the mud. Torch was young, barely patched in, and nights like this showed just how green he still was.

“What?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

He flinched, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. “The perimeter’s clear,” he said, his voice steady despite the rain and the tension in the air. “No sign of anyone else. Whoever did this, they’re long gone.”

Of course, they were. They hadn’t stayed to fight. This wasn’t about killing Brick. It was about sending a message.

“They wanted us to find him like this,” I said finally, my voice cold. “This wasn’t just an attack. It was a fucking warning.”

Torch hesitated, his gaze flicking to Brick’s body. “So... what do we do?”

I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides. Brick’s bloodied cut, his lifeless face, the weight of his final words—it all settled deep in my chest. “We send a message of our own,” I said, my voice low. “But first, we get him home.”

The roar of engines filled the air as the rest of the crew rolled in. Their headlights cut through the storm, illuminating the grim scene. Gunnar “Chains” Parker was the first off his bike, his massive frame moving with the kind of heavy, deliberate purpose that made people step aside. Chains was built like a goddamn tank, with arms thick enough to snap a man’s neck and tattoos that told stories no one dared to ask about. The chain looped through his belt clinked as he stepped closer, his scowl deepening when he saw Brick’s body.

“Fuck,” Chains muttered, his voice a low rumble. “What the hell happened?”

“Ambush,” I said. “Brick said it was the Serpents and the Vipers. They’re working together.”

Chains froze, his scowl darkening. “Bullshit.”

“I wish it was,” I said. “But those were his last words.”

Chains let out a low whistle, his jaw tightening. “This is bad, Wraith. Real bad.”

“No shit,” I muttered, turning as Jaxon “Smoke” Calloway stepped off his Harley. Smoke was lean and wiry, his sharp features always set in an expression halfway between amusement and murder. He lit a cigarette, the tiny flame flickering weakly against the rain before he took a slow drag.

“So, what’s the play?” Smoke asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled into the storm. “You wanna hit back tonight, or are you gonna make us wait?”

“We bury Brick first,” I said firmly. “Then we figure out exactly what the hell we’re dealing with. I want names, plans, weak points. We don’t move until we know everything.”

Inside the clubhouse, the air was thick with tension. The common room was packed, every member of the Reapers present, their faces a mix of grief, anger, and unease. Gage “Grim” Hunter sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders hunched as he listened to me recount Brick’s final words. Grim wasn’t just the President—he was the backbone of the club, the man who’d built it into an empire. His gray eyes burned with quiet fury as I finished.

“Serpents and Vipers,” Grim said, his voice low. “Working together.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Brick said they want everything—our territory, our power. They’re not just cutting into our business. They’re coming for it all.”

The room erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped, accusations flew, and tempers flared. Grim let it go for about thirty seconds before slamming his fist on the table. The sound cut through the noise like a gunshot, and the room fell silent.

“Enough!” Grim barked, his voice like a growl. “We’re not tearing ourselves apart over this.”

“This isn’t just about one attack,” I said, meeting each of their gazes. “This is war. And if we don’t play it smart, we’re going to lose.”