Chapter Nine
The call came in just after the last of the delivery bikes rolled into the Devil’s Crown lot and engines cooled with sharp ticking sounds. The air smelled like oil, exhaust, and sweat. Voices carried through the open bay doors.
There was laughter and the familiar sound of clinking bottles. Life moving forward like nothing in the world was wrong.
Brick was in the garage, stripping down a weapon at one of the worktables, methodical and silent as always, when his phone vibrated inside the pocket of his cut.
He didn’t answer right away. He never liked being interrupted mid-task.
The vibration came again. He frowned and finally answered.
“Brick,” the prospect blurted, panic already crawling into his voice. “It’s Tessa. She hasn’t returned to the clubhouse.”
The words didn’t register at first. Brick straightened slowly, the weapon forgotten in his hands.
“She should’ve been here already,” the prospect rushed on. “She always comes straight after work. Always. Everyone knows that, but nobody’s seen her. I checked the garage, the bar, the common room. She’s not here.”
Cold slid into Brick’s veins like black ice.
“How long?” he demanded. Rage and possessiveness rose up inside of him, but he shoved it back down. He needed to hear all the details and to keep a calm mind.
“Over an hour now,” the prospect said.
The garage suddenly felt too loud. It felt too bright and alive.
“Keep your eyes open,” Brick said, his voice flattening to steel. “If anything changes, you report to me immediately. You don’t wait.”
“Yes, sir,” the prospect immediately answered.
The call cut off.
Brick stared at the dark screen for a heartbeat longer than necessary. A familiar, unwelcome pressure tightened in his chest. Tessa was punctual to a fault. If she was late, she called.
If plans changed, she texted. If she was unsure, she asked him. She didn’t vanish. Brick checked his phone to see if he missed any messages or calls from her. Brick’s heart sank as it dawned on him that he missed two messages from her earlier.
The ones he hadn’t properly read.
Dillon is missing. I can’t reach him. Please call me.
I’m worried about Dillon. Something feels wrong. I’m going to look for him after work. Don’t be mad.
Brick’s breath left him slowly, hollow and cold. These messages might as well have been written in blood. He remembered seeing the notification. He remembered thinking he’d respond once the delivery wrapped.
Once the crew was safe and everything was settled. There was always one more thing. One more responsibility, another fire demanding his attention that needed to be put out.
Damn it, now she was gone. A savage wave of guilt slammed into his chest.
He should have replied, gone to her immediately and listened to that uneasy instinct he’d felt all day and brushed aside.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Screw this. Brick had to try reaching out to her. He called her. The phone rang again and again. Each unanswered ring wound tighter around his ribs. The Iron Serpents had been quiet for weeks, and he’d let himself believe the threat had passed.
Brick had let himself believe Dillon was no longer worth their time. He’d foolishly convinced himself that Tessa was finally safe. Brick had been arrogant and careless and that attitude had cost him.
Brick closed his eyes for one brutal second. He needed to think this through and not let his rampaging emotions get in the way. A week ago, he had somehow convinced her to let him install a tracker on her phone. She had hesitated, because who wouldn’t?
In the end though, she’d agreed when he told her it wasn’t about control. It was about finding her if she ever needed him and couldn’t call.
Now he prayed to every god he didn’t believe in that the phone was still on her. He quickly found the tracking app and the screen loaded. Impatience grated at him and it felt like an eternity, but the map finally snapped into place.
A red pin blinked on a narrow side street on the east side of town. An alley. Brick was moving before thought fully caught up to instinct.
He was on his bike in seconds. The engine roared to life beneath him as he tore out of the lot, tires screaming in protest. The night air clawed at his face, sharp and cold.
Traffic became an obstacle course he attacked without mercy. Lights blurred. Horns blared. Nothing mattered but that glowing red pin and the woman who should have been attached to it.
When he hit the alley, he cut the engine so hard the bike skidded sideways.
“Tessa!” His voice ripped through the dark.
No answer. The alley felt wrong. It was too still and quiet. The kind of quiet that followed violence.
Her phone lay near the trash bins, screen cracked, glowing faintly. Brick dropped to one knee beside it, his hands shaking just enough to piss him off.
The signs were everywhere once he forced himself to look and focus on what was in front of him.
Scuffed shoe prints. A broken fingernail near the wall. A dark smear of blood across the concrete. Long drag marks toward the street.
She had fought. The realization hit him like a hammer to the ribs.
Pride surged through the terror, sharp and painful. Tessa didn’t go quietly. She never had, but the cost of that fight burned into his chest with brutal clarity.
“If any of you touched her...” he growled into the empty alley.
He didn’t finish the sentence. For one reckless heartbeat, he considered riding straight to the Iron Serpents’ compound alone. Guns blazing. Consequences be damned. He could do it. He’d kill every last one if that was what it took. Brick could gun them all down.
He breathed in and out, and finally calmed down a little. Brick wasn’t a fool, not when her life was on the line. Not only her, the Iron Serpents must have Dillon, too. Those spineless bastards. Brick couldn’t do this alone. He needed back-up if he wanted get Tessa and Dillon in one piece.
Brick swung back onto his bike and rode. The clubhouse came into view like a fortress carved from shadow and light. He didn’t slow as he entered the lot. Hell, Brick didn’t cut the engine as he stormed inside.
King was in his office when Brick kicked the door open without knocking.
“Tessa’s missing,” were the first words out of Brick’s mouth.
King looked up sharply. One glance at Brick’s face and the mood shifted instantly.
“What do you mean, missing?” King demanded.
“She didn’t come back from work. Her phone was in an alley. There was a struggle,” Brick explained.
The room went still.
“You think it’s the Iron Serpents?”
Brick’s hands curled into fists. “I’d bet my life on it.” There was no one else who would want to screw with him like that.
King stood. “Anyone else know yet?”
“No.”
King began pacing immediately, already running scenarios. “We’ll hit their known properties. Split into teams and...”
“They don’t have time for that,” Brick snapped.
King stopped pacing and looked at him. “You don’t get to lose your head right now.”
“She’s already lost time,” Brick shot back. “And so has Dillon.”
King studied him for a long second. “How important is she to you, Brick?”
Brick lifted his head. How could King ask him that question?
“There’s no one above her,” he said hoarsely. “She’s my everything. And I’m bringing her home. Anyone who tries to stop me gets buried.”
The silence afterward was heavy and absolute. Then Brick’s phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. Brick had a bad feeling about this. He opened it.
We have Tessa. And the kid. If you want them back, you come alone.
Brick’s vision went red.
“Show me that,” King demanded. When Brick didn’t hand his phone over, King walked over to him.
King read the message over Brick’s shoulder, his jaw tightening. For a heartbeat, the office was silent except for the distant thrum of music from the clubhouse below. Then King let out a slow, dangerous breath.
“They really think you’re stupid enough to walk into that trap by yourself,” he said.
Brick barely heard him. The room felt like it was tilting, his pulse roaring in his ears. The image of Tessa alone, frightened, possibly hurt, kept flashing behind his eyes like a brand.
“They’ll kill her if I bring the whole club,” Brick said, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.
He felt numb and hollow. Like the words had been ripped straight out of his chest instead of passed through his lungs.
King moved fast. One second he was across the room, the next his fist was gripping the front of Brick’s cut, yanking him close until they were nose to nose.
“They’ll kill you if you don’t,” King snarled. “And then they’ll kill her anyway. You don’t fight wars solo. Not in this club.”
Brick’s chest heaved. Rage shook through him, raw and violent, barely leashed. It took everything he had not to shove King off him and storm straight back out the door alone.
Every instinct screamed at him to go now, to tear through the city until he found her or died trying. King held his stare a second longer, searching his eyes for reason. Then he released him.
King turned sharply and stepped into the hallway, his voice booming with command. “Gear up! Best shooters only. We move now!”
The clubhouse erupted into motion.
Boots pounded on concrete. Voices rose. Lockers slammed. The easy noise of drinking and cards vanished, replaced by the unmistakable rhythm of men preparing for war.
Brick barely registered it at first. His thoughts were still trapped in that alley. The broken phone. The blood on the pavement. The drag marks that told him she’d fought like hell.
He forced himself to breathe and dragged himself back into the present.
He moved to his assigned crew on instinct alone. No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be. Everyone could see it in his face. The rigid set of his shoulders. The murder burning behind his eyes.
Weapons were checked with practiced efficiency. Magazines slid home with solid clicks. Knives were strapped to thighs and boots. Vests were tightened. Each sound felt like a countdown.
When they stepped outside, the night swallowed them whole.
Engines roared to life one after another, the sound rolling across the lot like distant thunder. Headlights cut through the dark in sharp white beams.
Brick mounted his bike at the front of the line. His spine was locked tight. His knuckles were bone-white around the handlebars. Every muscle in his body vibrated with barely restrained violence.
Somewhere out there, Tessa was terrified and she was waiting for him. The Iron Serpents had just signed their death warrant.