Chapter 7 - Ace #2
"No," Reaper says, shaking his head. "Time to end it. This third strike isn't about scaring them or sending a message. It's about finishing them, permanently."
This is what we've been waiting for. The green light to eliminate the threat once and for all.
"We're not rushing this," Reaper continues. "We wait, gather all necessary intel, then make one surgical strike. No survivors, no loose ends."
"What's the timeline?" Blade asks, always the strategist.
"As long as it takes to do it right," Reaper answers. "But not a day longer than necessary. Every day Charles breathes is another day our families are at risk."
I think of Sarah, of the child growing inside her. My child. The stakes have never felt higher.
"We're fighting for more than just the club now," Reaper says, as if reading my thoughts. "We're fighting for the future of everyone in this town. Those who welcomed us and those who didn't. We made a promise to protect Pine Haven when we settled here, and we'll keep it."
Around the table, heads nod in agreement. Despite our outlaw status, we've developed a strange symbiotic relationship with Pine Haven. We keep certain elements out—like Charles's trafficking operation—and in return, the town tolerates our presence, even appreciates it sometimes.
"Wilder, Ghost, I want intel. Find out where Charles is holing up. Blade, inventory our weapons, see what we need." Reaper's orders come rapid-fire, each brother nodding in acknowledgment.
"And me?" I ask when he doesn't assign me a task.
Reaper's eyes meet mine. "You and Viper keep Sarah safe. Today, that means getting her to her apartment and back without incident. After that, we'll talk."
There's something in his tone that makes me wonder if there's more he's not saying, but I nod anyway. "Understood."
"One more thing," Reaper adds, his voice taking on a grave quality. "If any of you have loose ends to tie up… Family to protect, relationships to secure, do it now. Once we move on Charles, there's no going back."
The implication is clear: some of us might not survive what's coming. I glance around the table at the men who've become my family. The thought of losing any of them cuts deeper than I expected.
"That's it," Reaper concludes. "Meeting adjourned."
The brothers file out, each in their own thoughts about the coming war. I remain seated, thinking about Sarah, about the baby, about what "securing relationships" might mean in my case.
Viper claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes. "Ready when you are. For the apartment run."
I nod, dragging myself back to the present. "Give me five minutes."
Finding Sarah isn't difficult. She's in the kitchen, helping one of the prospects wash dishes despite Reaper's assurance that it wasn't necessary. She looks up when I enter, a question in her eyes.
"We're good to go," I tell her. "Viper's getting the truck ready."
She dries her hands on a dish towel. "Everything okay with your... church?"
"Yeah." I hesitate, then decide she deserves at least a partial truth. "We're planning how to deal with the Vultures MC permanently. Make sure they can't threaten anyone again."
A shadow crosses her face. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is," I admit. "But necessary." I step closer, lowering my voice. "Sarah, once we get back from your apartment, we need to talk about what happens next. For you. For the baby."
She nods slowly. "Okay. But first, let's get my things."
Outside, Viper waits by my black pickup truck, checking his weapons. He's wearing his cut, as am I—a statement that anyone who messes with us will answer to the entire Outlaw Order.
"Ready?" Viper asks as we approach.
Sarah nods, climbing into the middle seat of the truck cab while I take the wheel and Viper rides shotgun, literally, with a sawed-off within easy reach beneath his seat.
As we pull away from the clubhouse, I catch Sarah looking back at it, her expression unreadable. I wonder what she sees: a den of criminals or a fortress of protection? Maybe both.
"Your place is over on Maple, right?" I ask, realizing I've never actually been to her apartment. Our one night together ended at a motel on the edge of town.
"Cedar Street," she corrects. "The Pineview Apartments. Building C, unit 14."
I nod, mentally mapping the route. It's a decent part of town, mostly young professionals and small families. The kind of normal, safe environment that Sarah belongs in, not the chaos of my world.
As we drive, I scan for signs of surveillance or pursuit, but the streets of Pine Haven are peaceful on this Sunday morning. Most people are at church—the real kind, not our version—or enjoying lazy breakfasts at home.
"No one's following," Viper confirms, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors.
I can feel Sarah's tension beside me, her body rigid despite the calm exterior she's trying to maintain. Without thinking, I reach over and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"It's going to be okay," I tell her, hoping it's not a lie.
She looks down at our joined hands, then back up at me. "Is it?"
Before I can answer, Viper points ahead. "That's the building, right?"
The Pineview Apartments come into view. Three modest three-story buildings arranged around a central courtyard with a small playground. It looks peaceful, ordinary. A world away from gunfire and vendettas.
"Building C is on the far side," Sarah directs.
I park as close as possible to her building, scanning the area once more before cutting the engine.
"Here's how this works," I say, turning to Sarah. "Viper goes in first, makes sure everything's clear. Then you and I go up together. We're in and out in ten minutes, no exceptions."
She opens her mouth as if to argue, then seems to think better of it. "Okay."
Viper slips out of the truck, his hand resting near his concealed weapon as he enters the building.
"He's very good at what he does," I tell her, "Best man I know in a fight."
"You said that before," she observes. "That he's the best man you know, but you never told me why."
I lean back against the seat, considering her question. It's fair. I've shared bits and pieces of my story, but never the full picture of how I came to the Outlaw Order.
"Viper found me in my hometown about two years ago," I begin. "I was twenty-four, going nowhere fast. My mom had died the year before, overdose, and I was living in her old trailer, working dead-end jobs and picking fights at the local bars."
Sarah listens without interrupting, her eyes encouraging me to continue.
"One night, I was particularly drunk, particularly stupid.
Got into it with some guys at this dive bar outside of town.
Didn't know they were connected to the Outlaw Order MC.
" I shake my head, remembering my arrogance.
"I was holding my own until Viper walked in.
He took one look at the situation and decided to end it. "
"He hurt you?" Sarah asks softly.
"Beat me within an inch of my life," I confirm without bitterness. "Most humbling ass-kicking I ever got. But then, instead of leaving me there, he picked me up, threw me in his truck, and drove me to a motel to patch me up."
I glance out the window, checking the street again before continuing.
"I woke up the next morning with thirty-seven stitches and Viper sitting in a chair watching me. He said he saw something in me, said I fought like I had nothing to lose, but that I wasn’t smart enough to be channeling that energy somewhere useful."
I remember his exact words, how they cut through my alcohol-soaked brain: "You're wasted here, kid. Drowning in a puddle when you could be swimming in the ocean."
"He offered me a job," I continue. "Said the club needed someone with my particular talents. I figured I had nothing better to do, so I followed him back to Pine Haven."
"What talents?" Sarah asks.
I hesitate, unsure how to explain without sounding like a sociopath.
"I'm good in a crisis. Good under pressure.
And I can fight. Really fight, not just barroom brawling.
At first, I was just hired muscle. Then a prospect, like a pledge, testing to get into the club.
Viper vouched for me the whole way, even when I screwed up.
Taught me everything. How to ride properly, club protocol, how to be part of something bigger than myself. "
I look down at our now joined hands. "I never had a father worth a damn. Viper's the closest thing I've ever had."
The confession feels raw, exposing a vulnerability I rarely acknowledge. But Sarah deserves to know who I am, where I come from, if she's going to have my child.
"He saved my life," I finish simply. "Not just physically, but... he gave me purpose. A family. Before the club, I was just waiting to die. Now I have something to live for."
Sarah's quiet for a moment, processing my words. "Thank you for telling me," she finally says. "It helps me understand..."
Before she can finish, Viper emerges from the building, scanning the area before approaching the truck. I squeeze Sarah's hand once more before releasing it.
Viper opens my door, leaning in close. "All clear.
No signs of disturbance or surveillance.
" Then, his voice dropping so Sarah can't hear, he adds, "Forget the ten-minute limit.
Take your time. Have a real conversation with her, plan for the future.
There's no point putting your life on the line with the Vultures MC if you've got nothing to return to, especially when she's carrying your kid. "
The unexpected advice from my usually all-business mentor catches me off guard. I nod, feeling the weight of his words.
"We're good to go," I tell Sarah, opening my door. "Your place is secure."
The three of us enter the building, Viper taking point up the stairs to the second floor where Sarah's apartment is located. The hallway is quiet, most residents likely out enjoying their Sunday.
Sarah unlocks her door, stepping inside with visible relief at being back in her own space.
I follow, taking in the modest but comfortable one-bedroom apartment.
It's distinctly Sarah. Bookshelves filled with children's literature and teaching resources, soft throw pillows on a small couch, potted plants on every available surface.
A wall of framed photos shows her with what must be her family and friends, her smile radiant in each one.
"I'll keep watch outside," Viper says, positioning himself in the hallway. "Take your time.”