Chapter Forty-Three
BEEN THREE DAYS since I woke up with a pit in my gut.
Three days since Sable smiled without flinchin’. Since Malik dozed off on the couch with his head in my lap. Since Zara twirled through the common room like she owned every damn inch of it.
Three days of peace.
And in my world, that only ever meant one thing—it was ‘bout to break.
The common room was buzzin’ with the usual crowd. Sable was sittin’ with Zara on her lap talkin’ with Lucy. Malik was playin’ checkers with Horse. I sat talkin’ to Gearhead but my eyes never left Sable for long.
Devil’s phone buzzed. He looked down at it, and I saw the change before he even opened his mouth. His eyes turned to flint, cold as steel, like a switch had flipped.
“War room,” he barked, already on his feet. “Now.”
Ten minutes later, we were at the table.
Bolt, Mystic, Chain, Gearhead, Rune, Gatsby, and Spinner.
Every patch leaned in, shadows cuttin’ across their faces from the overhead lighting.
Nobody spoke. The kind of silence where every man’s heart’s beatin’ harder, but no one wants to be the first to break it.
Devil set his phone down, screen facedown like it was a snake that might bite. His gaze cut across the table, landin’ square on me.
“We got a hit,” he said, his voice soft, sure. “Word is, Gabrial knows she’s here.”
The air snapped tight.
My fists curled under the table. “How?”
“Kickstand caught it,” Devil said. “Somebody tagged our clubhouse coordinates in a burner post. Dark web. GPS bounce traced back to Gabrial’s mansion outside Charleston.”
Mystic shoved a hand through his hair, mutterin’ a curse that echoed off the walls. “That ain’t a breadcrumb. That’s a goddamn flare.”
Chain leaned forward, his knuckles drumming a low beat on the wood. “Man posts somethin’ like that, it ain’t by accident. He’s pokin’, seein’ if we twitch.”
Gearhead grunted, arms crossed, eyes dark. “He pokes this nest again, he’s gonna find more than a twitch.”
Bolt’s voice came from deep in his chest. “We hit him first. Take the fight to his door before he brings it to ours.”
Devil’s stare cut across the table, silencing them all. “He knows,” he said flat. “And if he don’t know exact, he’s close enough to start hunting. We move her. Tonight. No fight yet.”
The scrape of Chain’s ring against the table was sharp in the stillness. “Where?”
Didn’t even think. Didn’t plan. The words ripped outta me before my brain caught up.
“My momma’s place.”
Every head turned.
“She’s got land, got distance,” I said, meetin’ Devil’s eyes. “Ain’t nobody gonna think to look there ‘less they’re already in our veins. Remote. Quiet. Family.”
“You sure?” Devil asked, his voice iron.
I gave a single nod. “I’ll keep ‘em there myself if I gotta.”
Silence stretched long enough for me to wonder what he was thinkin’, then Devil gave the slow dip of his chin. Final.
“Do it.”
Relief hit me jagged, but it didn’t sit easy.
“Gatsby an’ Kickstand are still digging,” Devil went on. “That mark, that circle of fire—we keep finding smoke but no fire. Lopez knows how to cover his tracks. He’s built his house like a goddamn fortress.”
Gatsby muttered, “It’s like looking for water in the desert. Cameras, guards, dogs. He builds walls for a reason.”
“Keep digging,” Devil ordered, eyes swingin’ back to me. “You stay with her. With the kids. Mystic, Horse, Wrath, they’ll handle The Pit.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I said, heat crawlin’ up my spine. “But this don’t end with us shufflin’ her from one safehouse to another. Only way it ends is when I put him in the ground. I won’t have Sable lookin’ over her shoulder every damn day.”
The table went quiet again. Every man’s eyes on me, waitin’ for Devil.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes burnin’ like live coals. “We handle it together. You ride out alone, you don’t come back. That’s not me spouting threats—that’s fact.”
I ground my teeth, fightin’ the growl risin’ in my throat, but I forced the nod.
“We keep her safe.”
Devil gave one sharp nod and smacked the gavel. “Church dismissed.”
Chairs scraped, boots scuffed, brothers filed out in low mutters. My pulse was still poundin’, my hands still itchin’ for a gun.
“Thunder.”
Devil’s voice cut through the noise, sharp as barbed wire. He didn’t wait. Just walked out the side door, and I followed.
The hall was cooler, darker. He stopped just past the war room doors, turned, and pinned me with that stare of his, red and hard.
“You’re thinking ‘bout riding after him yourself,” he said. Not a question.
I clenched my jaw. “Man like Gabrial don’t stop. We keep runnin’, he’ll keep comin’. Only way this ends is me plantin’ him six feet under.”
Devil stepped in close, hand landin’ heavy on my cut. “You hear me good, we do this as a club. You break ranks, you don’t just risk your hide. You risk her. The kids. Every damn one of us. And I’ll put you in the dirt myself before I let you drag us into war half-cocked.”
The words hit like a hammer to the chest.
“I’m not askin’ for special treatment,” I bit out. “But I can’t stand by while she looks over her shoulder every hour, wonderin’ when he’s gonna come. You don’t see her face when she talks about him—”
Devil’s grip tightened on my vest. “No. But I see your face when you talk about her. That’s why you don’t ride this one solo. You’re too close. Too far gone.”
My chest burned, rage coiled hot, but I swallowed it. Forced a tight nod. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“You better,” he said, lettin’ go but not softenin’. “Keep her safe. Keep yourself in check. And when the time comes for blood, we spill it together.”
Then he turned and walked off, boots echoing in the empty hall, leavin’ me standin’ there with my fists balled and my pulse poundin’.
Together.
But all I could think was—I wasn’t sure I could wait that long.
***
THE TRUCK RUMBLED beneath us, tires humming against old Carolina asphalt as the town gave way to fields and pine.
Buildings fell behind, one by one, until all we had was sunlight slippin’ through the branches and the sound of the wind.
The air smelled different out here, earthy, damp, wide open, unbothered by the weight of men and their sins.
Didn’t matter. Couldn’t shake the itch between my shoulders.
Sable sat close beside me, her hair pulled back loose, the soft shadows of the cab painting her face in a way that made her look carved out of something more fragile than flesh.
Zara was curled up in the back with her bunny tucked tight, eyes fluttering like she was halfway between dreams. Malik had his chin propped on one fist, staring out the window like he was tracking ghosts in the trees.
We hadn’t said much since we left the clubhouse. She knew somethin’ was off. Hell, she always knew, could read the air the way she was taught to read scripture, waitin’ for the hidden message, the warning between the lines.
Her hand rested light on my thigh, just enough weight to remind me she was there, like she thought I’d up and run if she let go.
“You sure she’s okay with us coming out there like this?” she asked finally, voice barely above the hum of the engine.
I glanced over, caught her profile in the glow of the dash. “Momma? She’d be mad if I didn’t bring you.”
That earned me the smallest smile. Not a bright one—more like a weary flicker at the corner of her mouth, but it was somethin’.
The gravel popped beneath the tires as we turned up the long drive.
White fence stretchin’ either side, big porch out front, blackberry bushes lined in rows at the edge of the yard.
House hadn’t changed since I was a boy. Weathered and stubborn, standin’ tall against storms, just like the woman inside it.
The door flew open before I’d even cut the engine.
Momma stepped out, dish towel tossed over her shoulder, braid of silver hair gleamin’ in the sun. She stood square on that porch, feet bare, arms crossed, lookin’ down at us with the same no-bullshit gaze she’d given patched brothers and preachers alike.
“Well,” she said, squintin’ against the sun, “’bout time.”
For a beat, none of us moved. Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the weight of what we were carryin’, the shadows of what we’d done, what we’d seen, what was still chasin’ our heels.
Momma didn’t wait.
She came down the steps like the ground belonged to her, apron tied around her waist, that towel swingin’ like a flag. Arms crossed tight, chin high. Woman never was afraid of much, and if she had been, she never showed it.
“Get them babies out that truck and into some air conditionin’ before I have a heatstroke just lookin’ at y’all,” she barked, but her eyes softened the second they landed on Zara’s sleepy face.
Sable slid out first, hair tumblin’ loose from the drive, her hand reachin’ back to help Zara and Malik climb down. Zara clung to her bunny, blinkin’ blearily. Malik kept close, his shoulders tense, eyes on the yard like he expected monsters to come lurchin’ out from the treeline.
I rounded the front to grab our bags, but Momma was already there, pluckin’ one off my shoulder like I was twelve again.
“Let me take this,” she muttered, headin’ for the porch. “Come on now.”
I let out a low breath, watchin’ her usher Sable and the kids up the steps like she’d been expectin’ them all her life.
The house smelled the same the second we crossed the threshold, old wood, lemon cleaner, and somethin’ sweet bakin’. Maybe cornbread. Maybe peach cobbler. Hell, maybe both. That smell sank right down into my bones.
I watched Sable’s shoulders ease the moment she stepped inside.
She looked around like the walls themselves felt different, solid, safe, untouched by the kind of rot that bleeds from evil.
Malik kicked off his boots by the door like he’d been taught to, and Zara trailed close behind, bunny pressed to her chest, nose twitchin’ as if she was tryin’ to memorize the smell.