Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
RYDER
T he Crimson Reapers’ clubhouse sat at the edge of town, tucked behind a crumbling gas station and a line of skeletal trees. The building wasn’t much to look at—brick walls streaked with grime, windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see the chaos inside—but to us, it was home. The kind of home built on blood, sweat, and a thousand bad decisions.
I pushed through the heavy double doors, the noise inside hitting me like a wall. Laughter, shouting, the clink of pool balls—all of it undercut by the low hum of classic rock playing over the old speakers mounted on the walls. The smell of whiskey and smoke hung in the air, so thick it felt like it had soaked into the walls.
At the center of it all was Gage “Grim” Hunter, the President of the Crimson Reapers. He was leaning against the bar, a whiskey glass in one hand, his gray eyes scanning the room like a hawk sizing up its prey. Grim didn’t have to say much to command respect. His presence alone was enough to keep everyone in line—most of the time.
I made my way over, the other guys stepping aside without a word. Grim’s gaze locked onto mine as I approached, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“Wraith,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “We need to talk.”
Grim led me into the back office, a small, cluttered room that smelled like leather and stale beer. He shut the door behind us, motioning for me to sit, but I stayed on my feet. Grim didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He got straight to the point.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, tossing a map onto the desk. “Vipers are moving product through our territory again.”
I leaned over the map, my eyes narrowing as I traced the route he’d marked. It ran straight through our southern border, right through Reaper turf. “You sure about this?”
Grim nodded. “Got the intel from one of our guys down south. They’re running a shipment tomorrow night. A big one.”
I clenched my jaw, the familiar anger bubbling up in my chest. The Black Vipers had been poking at our borders for months now, testing how far they could push before we pushed back. This wasn’t just business—it was a challenge. And they knew it.
“You want me to intercept it?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Grim said. “Take a crew, hit them hard, and send a message. Make sure they understand this is our turf, not theirs.”
I nodded, already running through the logistics in my head. This wasn’t my first ambush, and it wouldn’t be my last. But something about this one felt different. Bigger. Riskier.
Grim must have sensed my hesitation because he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got this, Wraith. I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“I know,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll take care of it.”
Back in the main room, I gathered my crew: Chains, Smoke, and Torch. They were my go-to guys for jobs like this—loyal, ruthless, and dependable—but tonight, the tension between us felt like a live wire. The room buzzed with low conversations and laughter from the other Reapers, but our corner was all business.
Chains, as usual, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “We should’ve hit them weeks ago,” he said, his tone edged with frustration. His massive arms were crossed over his chest, his expression hard enough to crack concrete. “They’ve been stepping on our toes for months now, and we’ve just been sitting here, waiting.”
I shot him a look, my jaw tightening. “You think I don’t know that?”
Chains didn’t back down, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’m just saying, Wraith. Every day we wait, they get bolder. Maybe it’s time we stopped playing defense and started hitting them where it hurts.”
Smoke leaned back in his chair, exhaling a lazy stream of cigarette smoke. “Chains has a point,” he said, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Waiting around hasn’t done us any favors. Feels like we’ve been letting them walk all over us.”
“You got a better plan?” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.
Smoke grinned, the kind of grin that made you want to punch it off his face. “I’m just here for the ride, boss. But if it were me, I’d already be burning down their warehouse.”
“Yeah,” Chains muttered, his voice low and bitter. “At least someone gets it.”
I glanced at Torch, the youngest of the group, who was sitting on the edge of his chair, fidgeting nervously with the zipper on his jacket. He hadn’t said a word, but the tension in his shoulders told me he was feeling the pressure as much as the rest of us.
“What about you, Torch?” I asked, my voice cutting through the growing hostility. “You got something to say?”
Torch hesitated, his gaze flicking between Chains and me like he was caught in the middle of a fight he didn’t want to be part of. “I just... I think we should be careful,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “The Vipers aren’t stupid. If we go in half-cocked, we’re gonna end up like Brick.”
The mention of Brick’s name was like a punch to the gut, and the tension in the room thickened. Chains’ jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Don’t you fucking bring Brick into this,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “He’s gone because we waited too long to make a move.”
“Brick’s gone because the Vipers set a trap,” I snapped, my voice cold. “And if we rush in blind, we’re gonna end up just like him. That what you want, Chains?”
Chains didn’t answer, but the fire in his eyes burned hotter. Smoke let out a low whistle, leaning forward to stub out his cigarette on the edge of the table. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Let’s all take a deep breath and remember we’re on the same side here.”
“Enough,” I said, my voice cold and sharp. The weight of leadership settled on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. “We’re not hitting them blind. We do this smart, or we don’t do it at all. You got a problem with that, Chains?”
Chains muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to push me when I was like this. Smoke smirked again, his dark eyes still glinting with amusement. “Whatever you say, boss.”
I turned my attention back to the map spread out on the table, ignoring the tension still simmering in the air. “Here’s the plan,” I said, my voice steady and commanding. “We intercept the shipment tomorrow night, just outside of Reaper territory. We hit them hard and fast, take out anyone who gets in our way, and send a message they won’t forget.”
Torch nodded, his nervous energy shifting into something more focused. Chains leaned forward, his expression still hard, but there was a flicker of determination in his eyes now. Smoke just leaned back in his chair, lighting another cigarette and watching me with that infuriating grin.
“This is about more than just revenge,” I continued, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “This is about survival. The Vipers think they can walk all over us. Tomorrow, we remind them who the fuck we are.”
The men nodded, their tension giving way to resolve. Chains cracked his knuckles, his voice a low growl. “About damn time.”
By the time the meeting broke up, it was well past midnight. The clubhouse had emptied out, the noise replaced by the low hum of the jukebox in the corner. I poured myself a whiskey, the amber liquid burning as it slid down my throat and stared out the window at the rain-soaked parking lot.
Brick’s voice echoed in my head, sharp and accusing: You think this is just another job? You think this is just about turf?
I clenched my jaw, shaking off the thought. Brick was gone, and I couldn’t afford to let his death distract me. The mission came first. It always came first.
As I turned back to the empty room, I made myself a promise: no matter what it took, no matter how many bodies hit the ground, I’d make sure the Vipers paid for every inch they tried to take.
Tomorrow night, they’d know what it meant to cross the Crimson Reapers.
* * *
The night was dark, the moon obscured by thick clouds as we waited just off the road near the river. The roar of the nearby water filled the silence, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the tension buzzing between us. Chains was crouched beside me, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol. Torch was further back, his eyes darting between the road and the tree line. Smoke had gone ahead to scout, his bike parked under the cover of the trees.
“They’re late,” Chains muttered, his voice a low growl. “Think they caught wind of us?”
“Maybe,” I said, scanning the road. “Or maybe they’re just cocky enough to think we won’t do shit.”
Before Chains could respond, the faint sound of an engine broke through the night. Then another. The headlights appeared a moment later, cutting through the darkness as two trucks rolled down the dirt road toward us.
“They’re here,” I said, my voice calm but sharp. “Smoke, you see them?”
Smoke’s voice crackled over the radio. “I see them. Two trucks, four riders escorting them. No sign of Axel.”
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on my pistol. “Take out the riders first. Torch, you have the rear rider. Chains, you’re with me on the lead truck.”
The ambush unfolded like clockwork. Smoke took out the first rider with a well-placed shot, the man’s bike skidding out as he hit the dirt. He swung his bike around to block the road, forcing the trucks to a screeching halt. Chains and I moved in fast, our guns trained on the drivers as the remaining riders scrambled to draw their weapons.
“Don’t fucking move!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos.
One of the riders hesitated, his hand hovering over the gun at his hip. Chains didn’t wait for him to make a decision. He fired once, the shot echoing through the night as the man dropped to the ground.
“Next one tries to get smart, you get the same,” Chains growled, his voice dripping with menace.
The drivers raised their hands, their faces pale in the dim light. “Alright, alright!” one of them stammered. “We’ll stand down!”
“Open the truck,” I ordered, motioning for Torch to cover them. “Now.”
One of the drivers climbed out slowly, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the latch. The back of the truck swung open, revealing crates stacked high and marked with symbols I didn’t recognize.
“What the fuck is this?” Chains muttered, his eyes narrowing.
“Looks like more than just guns,” Smoke said, walking up to the truck with his pistol still drawn. “Vipers branching out into new business?”
“Not on our turf,” I said, stepping closer to examine the crates.
The sound of a bike roaring up the road cut me off, and my blood ran cold. I turned just in time to see the figure on the bike pull a gun, the muzzle flashing in the darkness.
The first shot missed, but the second didn’t. The driver nearest to the truck crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The figure on the bike didn’t stop, firing again as he skidded to a halt.
I didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. Javier Cruz.
The man’s presence was as commanding as ever, even in the chaos. His leather cut gleamed under the headlights, the patch on his chest marking him as the President of the Black Vipers. His gun was still raised, his eyes cold as they swept over the scene.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he said, his voice calm but deadly. “Taking what’s ours.”
“This is our turf,” I shot back, my pistol aimed at his chest. “You knew the risk when you crossed the line.”
Javier smirked, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about turf. This is about power. And you just made the biggest mistake of your life.”
Before I could respond, Chains fired, the shot hitting Javier square in the shoulder,the Vipers’ president, staggered, his smirk replaced by a grimace of pain, but he didn’t go down. He raised his gun again, his aim steady despite the blood dripping down his arm.
It was Smoke who finished it. One shot, clean and precise, right between the eyes. Javier Cruz fell to the ground, his body motionless in the dirt.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I stood there, staring at the lifeless body of the man who’d been the Black Vipers’ king. The weight of what we’d just done settled over me like a heavy fog. Javier Cruz was dead. The Vipers wouldn’t recover from this. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end. This was just the beginning.
Chains let out a low whistle, his gun still raised. “Well, shit. Didn’t see that coming.”
“None of us did,” I muttered, holstering my pistol. “Torch, check the crates. Smoke, keep an eye on the road. We’re not out of this yet.”
As the men moved to follow my orders, I turned back to Javier’s body, my jaw tightening. Killing him had been the right move, but it had also been the boldest move we’d ever made. The Vipers wouldn’t let this go unanswered.
War was coming.
And it was going to be bloody.