Cyclops
Ink zoomed the camera in on the SUVs. “Plates are fake. The vehicles have no markings and tinted windows.”
Venom cracked his neck. “They want a war.”
Trixie stood just behind him—close enough that he sensed her, but far enough away that he could tell that she was bracing herself for the worst-case scenario.
She wasn’t trembling anymore. She wasn’t hesitating.
She wasn’t looking for a window to run through or a knife to hide behind.
She stood like she belonged here with them. Like she belonged beside him.
He clicked off the monitor and stood. “Brothers, saddle up.” Ink nodded, and Venom grabbed his shotgun. Razor slapped a mag into his rifle with the kind of practiced violence that said he was ready to tear the world apart.
But Cyclops held up a hand. “Not yet.” Heads turned, and they looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
Ink frowned. “What? They’re gearing up to breach. Now’s the time.”
Cyclops took a slow breath, his hand brushing the hilt of the knife at his hip. “They came to do a kidnapping—a snatch-and-run. They’re expecting panic. They’re expecting us to look vulnerable.”
Venom’s eyes narrowed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah,” Cyclops breathed.
Trixie stepped forward. “What are you going to do?”
He turned to her, and the room fell away for a moment. The noise and chaos seemed to die off around them. The stink of gun oil and fresh adrenaline hung in the air around them. None of it mattered with her standing there, waiting for the truth he’d been circling for days.
He cupped her face, tilting her chin up. “We don’t wait for an attack.”
Her breath hitched. “Cyclops,” she whispered.
“We take the fight to them,” he said. The room was completely silent—deadly, electric silence.
Ink grinned slowly. “Hell yeah.”
Venom cracked his knuckles. “About damn time.”
But Trixie grabbed Cyclops’s wrist. “No, you don’t understand. He’s expecting you to do this. He’s ready. He’s prepared for ambushes, roadblocks, traps—”
He leaned in, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Good. I’m ready too.”
She shook her head, panic flickering in her eyes. “Cyclops, you can’t go out there. He’ll kill you. Or worse, he’ll—”
He stepped closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “Trixie. Look at me.” She did—slowly and warily. With all the trust she didn’t want to admit she had in him. “You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “You stay in the panic room until I get back.”
“No,” she whispered. “Cyclops—”
“I told you I’d come back when you needed me.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “And I keep my promises.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know.” His voice softened. “That’s how I know I have to.” She swallowed hard, and he could see every emotion she’d fought for years tugging at her all at once. Fear, anger, and yeah, even love. Maybe she wasn’t ready to admit that, but he saw it in her eyes, staring back at him.
“Cyclops, please. Don’t go alone,” she begged.
He shook his head softly. “I’m never alone.
” Ink cleared his throat, Venom smirked, and Razor raised his rifle in a silent salute.
The Road Reapers were already standing behind him—ready to bleed for him, for each other, for Trixie.
But there was one more thing he needed to say before he walked into hell.
He tilted Trixie’s chin up with a finger. “I’d choose you. Every time. Remember that.”
Her eyes glistened. “I don’t deserve that.” He kissed her forehead—the softest touch he’d given anyone in years.
“You do,” he whispered.
“Come back to me,” she squeaked. “I’ll be waiting for you.” His breath stilled. He’d been called many things—brother, killer, sinner, and even monster. But never someone worth waiting for.
He nodded once. “Count on it.” He turned and strode out before she could see how much her words shook him. Right now, Cyclops needed to keep his mind in the fight because he planned on keeping his damn promise to Trixie.
The Reapers roared out of the compound like demons unleashed—engines growling, headlights cutting through the morning haze. Cyclops led the pack, the wind whipping the edges of his cut, the weight of his knife and pistol grounding him in the moment.
This wasn’t about vengeance. This wasn’t about dominance. This was about Trixie. Her father might have her location and even send his men in to bring her home, but he’d never get his hands on her. Not while Cyclops breathed.
They hit the clearing near the parked SUVs, and the enemy stepped out.
Men in suits surrounded the vehicles. They were armed to the teeth, their eyes void of emotion, and he knew that they had come for one thing and one thing only—Trixie.
They were probably ordered to retrieve her—or die trying, and Cyclops was good with the second option.
Cyclops killed the engine on his bike, and the rest of the Road Reapers did the same. He swung off the bike, rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles. “Gentlemen,” he called, using the term loosely. “You’re trespassing.”
One of the men stepped forward. “We’re here for the girl. Vincent wants Trixie—” Cyclops shot him in the knee before he could finish the sentence. The man collapsed with a scream, and Cyclops holstered the gun calmly.
“Next person says her name,” he said, tone icy and measured, “loses more than a knee.”
That’s when chaos erupted around them. Gunfire rang out, and Reapers howled around him.
Cyclops barely had time to think about what to do.
He just acted on instinct. The standoff lasted exactly six seconds.
Cyclops moved like a storm—silent when needed, lethal when forced.
A knife to one man’s throat. A boot to another man’s head.
Ink’s shotgun blasted a man clean off his feet.
Venom picked up one of the men and tossed him into a tree like he weighed nothing.
The fight ended fast--too fast. Vinnie Lee’s men weren’t amateurs, but these men weren’t there to kill. They were there to collect, just as he predicted. They were sent as a warning.
Cyclops wiped blood off his blade, breathing hard. “They were probing. Testing us to see what we’d do. They weren’t the real hit. They were a decoy sent to distract us.”
Venom nodded. “Which means he’s desperate.”
Ink reloaded. “Desperate men make mistakes.”
Cyclops looked toward the road leading away from camp. “He’s here,” Cyclops murmured, “I can feel it, and he thinks he gets the last move.”
Razor spat. “He’s wrong.”
Cyclops turned back to his men, resolve settling into his bones like iron. “We take him down,” he said. “We end this.”
“For the club!” Venom shouted.
Ink smirked. “And for the girl.” Cyclops didn’t deny it.
They rode back as the sun began to rise over the trees—a blood-red sky painting the world in fire.
He ran into the compound, expecting to find Trixie hiding in the panic room.
But she wasn’t there. Panic welled up inside of him, and he realized that they were truly just a decoy.
Vincent Lee had come to collect his daughter himself, and Cyclops was dumb enough to fall right into his trap.
He had left Trixie unprotected and put her right in danger's path. This whole time, he had promised her that she wasn’t alone, but he had left her that way and given her father exactly what he wanted—a chance to get to his daughter.