Chapter Three
PHOENIX
The further we venture into the warehouse district, the heavier everything feels.
The air clings thick and stale, soured with oil, something that smells foul, like urine, and the kind of rot that settles in when no one’s cared for a place in years.
The buildings are husks, steel skeletons with flaking paint and busted windows, slumped like they’ve given up on being anything more than cover for crime.
It’s deadly quiet.
The kind of silence that makes your instincts twitch.
I scan the rows of buildings, tracking every shadow, every blind corner. My gut is a twisted knot, part dread, part rage, all anchored in one brutal truth—I wasn’t there when Clover needed me.
I should have stopped this before it happened.
Should have kept her closer.
Now she’s in one of these goddamn buildings, and I have no idea what they’re doing to her.
Warehouse 47 waits at the end of the road, its rolling door shut tight like it’s trying to keep secrets buried. The dirt in front of it is torn up with fresh tire tracks. Not the kind that says delivery. The kind that says someone was dragged in fast and hard.
I cut the engine and kill the lights. One by one, the brothers jump out of the van. No words, just nods. Movements. A shared understanding between men who know the intensity of the stakes at hand.
We exit in silence, each of us peeling off toward our positions.
Sin and I break off to the side, keeping low as we move along the edge of the neighboring warehouse.
The wind kicks up loose dirt, stinging my face as I scan the rooftops ahead.
We climb a rusted-out ladder bolted to the side of the building, each rung groaning under our weight.
The metal roof is hot beneath my hands in the morning heat.
After the storm, the weather has shifted, and today’s summer heat is hitting with full force.
Sin and I crouch, rifles out, scopes up.
Warehouse 47 stretches out in front of us like a trap waiting for us.
Luring us.
Defying us to enter.
From up here, it looks empty.
But we both know better.
Ghost, Nitro, Mace, and Koa are already in position, fanned out around the perimeter. Our comms crackle softly, the only sound breaking the stillness as we sync up.
Ghost’s voice cuts in, low and tight. “Got eight heat sigs inside. Moving slow. Could be guards. Could be something worse.”
Eight.
That’s too many for a simple snatch job.
This isn’t about Clover anymore.
This was targeted and planned.
Pure and simple.
And that makes me want to burn it all down.
“Movement on the south side,” Ghost reports through my earpiece. “Two guards are doing regular patrols. Armed with automatic weapons.”
“Copy that,” Sin responds. “Phoenix, you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Through my scope, I make out the distinctive ‘birds in flight across his neck and arms’ tattoos on one of the guards.
Javier’s people.
“Rojas Cartel,” I confirm, my finger tightening on the trigger of my rifle. “These are the same fuckers who’ve been hitting our operations in LA.”
“Which means this isn’t random,” Sin says grimly. “They followed you here, waited for their chance.”
Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my jeans pocket.
Quickly, I pull it out to see an incoming call from an unknown number.
I show it to Sin, and he nods for me to answer.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“Ah… the famous Phoenix,” a heavily accented voice purrs through the speaker. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care about your little wife.”
Spanish accent.
Definitely Cartel.
“Where is she?” I growl.
“She’s been… uncooperative. Very chatty, your Clover. We had to give her something to loosen her tongue.”
Curling my lip, my anger almost tips over, my hand balls into a fist, my voice rising when I speak, “If you hurt her—”
“Hurt her? We gave her truth serum. Very effective. Makes people very… forthcoming. And extremely horny.” The man laughs, a sound like a damn hyena.
“She keeps talking about how much she loves you, how good you are in bed. It’s quite entertaining.
But she doesn’t know anything useful about your club operations, and that makes her, well, you know… not useful.”
I am going to kill him.
I am going to kill him slowly.
I am going to make him beg for death before I’m done.
“What do you want?” I force out, trying to keep my shit together so I don’t give our location away.
“Information. About your club’s operations. What information do they know about the Cartel? But your little wife?” Another sniveling laugh. “Truth serum works very well on diabetics, you know? Their blood sugar drops, they become confused, compliant—”
“And you thought drugging my wife would make me cooperative?”
“Oh, we hoped she’d be cooperative. But all she’s told us is how good you fuck her, and nothing about club business. So, for now, she’s merely entertainment for the boys and me, until you arrive, of course.”
My vision goes red, adrenaline surges, not knowing what exactly he means by ‘entertainment.’ They’re using her medical condition against her, exploiting her vulnerability.
“But here’s the thing, you better come quickly, because once she stops being entertaining for us…” he pauses for dramatic effect. “She’s of no use. If you understand my meaning?”
“Oh, I’m closer than you think,” I spit through gritted teeth. “But if you fucking touch her—”
“You’re in no position to make threats, hermano. You have ten minutes, or we start the real fun.”
Then the line goes dead.
Sin moves instantly, speaking rapidly into his radio. “All units, we’re going in hot. Clover’s in imminent danger. Rules of engagement… anything that’s not Clover or Phoenix is a target.”
“Copy,” the guys all reply down the line as Sin turns back to me.
“You ready to get your girl back?” he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eye like he can’t wait for this fight.
“Fuck yeah,” I state.
He signals, and we rappel down from the roof and move in coordinated formation toward the warehouse.
My heart hammers so damn hard I can barely hear my own footsteps, but my training kicks in.
Growing up in the Steel Serpents and now years of riding with Defiance, it’s all coming together for this moment.
Ghost’s voice cuts through the comms, tight and urgent. “Thermal shows Clover in the northeast corner, second level. Eight hostiles… maybe more. Movement is sporadic. Could be patrols. No visuals on weapons.”
“Copy that,” I reply, adrenaline starting to spike.
“Nitro, Koa… take the loading dock. Mace, you’re with me and Phoenix on the main entrance. Ghost, find us a back way in. Something we can use to cause a distraction or breach,” Sin orders.
“On it,” Ghost replies, fingers no doubt flying across his tablet as he pulls up satellite overlays and building schematics like the genius he is.
We reach the edge of the building, pressed against the corrugated siding, cloaked in shadow. The warehouse looms above us, a monolith of rust and decay. My pulse hammers in my ears as I check my weapon.
Then Ghost’s voice comes back, cool and low. “Rear northeast access door. Utility entrance. Small lock panel. It’s a clear weak point. It’ll put you directly below her position.”
“Perfect, let’s make it loud,” Sin murmurs.
We move fast, ducking between dead forklifts and stacked pallets, boots silent on the dirt.
When we reach the back corner, Sin unpacks the charge, his fingers working with precision that comes from years of blowing shit up.
He sticks the device to the rusted metal lock panel with a magnetic clamp and peels it back.
He looks at us. “On my mark. Take cover behind that crate. It’s gonna kick.”
The air is electric, charged with the anticipation of violence, and we dive behind the heavy shipping container, the cold steel digging into my back. My fingers twitch, ready to unleash hell, but I force myself to focus.
Focus on Clover.
Focus on what comes next.
“Three… two…”
I press my back harder against the metal, the hum of the countdown in my blood. There’s no room for hesitation. There’s no fucking way in hell I’m leaving without her.
“One.”
The explosion rips through the air like a crack of lightning.
It’s not just a bang—it is a seismic rupture, an all-consuming eruption of fire, metal, and hell itself.
The blast punches into us, shoving us back against the crate, throwing our bodies like ragdolls.
My chest caves in as if a thousand tons of weight are pressing against me.
My ears are ringing, my body hums with the aftershocks. Heat radiates over my skin, followed by the deafening roar of the explosion, followed by, “Go, go, go!” Sin bellows, already moving, dragging me with him.
We charge through the blasted gap, guns raised. Dust and debris explode in every direction, the air thick with smoke and the foul, acrid scent of scorched earth. The entire warehouse groans under the weight of the destruction, like it’s a living thing being torn apart from the outside in.
Chaos is everywhere.
Metal beams screech.
Pipes burst overhead with violent, rattling force.
The ground beneath us shakes, rumbling as if the very building is about to collapse on top of us.
The roar of our gunfire echoes, bouncing off the steel walls, mingling with the ragged sounds of men scrambling for cover.
But they’re not quick enough.
The Cartel soldiers are already in motion, scrambling from their hiding places, their guns spitting fire, bullets pinging off the steel, ricocheting like deadly pinballs.
I spot one soldier too slow to dive for cover, his rifle barely raised before I send a round straight through his chest. He crumples like paper, collapsing with a heavy thud, but there’s no time to savor it.
We have to move.
We have to keep going.
Another soldier takes aim at me from the far end of the room. He doesn’t stand a chance. My finger tightens on the trigger, and his body jerks back, blood spraying across the broken warehouse floor.
I don’t even blink.