Chapter Twenty-Four
Oliver
The sharp vibration against the nightstand pulled me out of a dead sleep. For several seconds, I couldn’t make sense of where I was.
The room was dark, the curtains still drawn against the night. The only light came from the blue glow of the digital clock and the screen of my phone as it continued to buzz across the wood.
I reached blindly, nearly knocking it onto the floor before my fingers finally wrapped around it.
The screen lit up my face. 5:31 A.M.
A groan escaped before I could stop it. Nothing good ever happened at half past five in the morning.
People didn’t call before sunrise unless someone had died, someone was in the hospital... or Wrecker was calling.
My stomach tightened the second I saw his name.
Beside me, the mattress shifted. “What...” Lark mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
She pushed herself onto one elbow, rubbing at one eye while trying to focus on me. Her blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, hiding half her face. “You okay?”
“I don’t know.” I answered the phone. “Yeah?”
“Get dressed.” No greeting. No explanation. Just two words delivered in Wrecker’s calm, steady voice.
I sat upright. “What’s going on?”
A brief pause. “Church.” Another beat. “Now.”
The call disconnected.
I stared at the black screen for another second.
That wasn’t like Wrecker.
Even when things went sideways, he’d usually give you something.
A sentence. A clue. Anything.
This time... nothing.
The silence on the other end of the phone said more than words could have.
Lark was fully awake now. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “It was Wrecker.”
That was all it took.
The sleep disappeared from her face. “I’m coming.”
I started to tell her no, but stopped. If Wrecker was calling church before sunrise, there wasn’t a chance this was staying between the men.
“Get dressed.”
Lark didn’t question it.
She threw the blankets back and climbed out of bed while I grabbed yesterday’s jeans from the chair. Neither of us said much. There wasn’t anything to say. Wrecker had called church before sunrise and given me exactly two words.
That wasn’t normal.
I pulled on my jeans before grabbing a clean black T-shirt from the dresser and dragging it over my head. My cut hung over the back of the chair. I slipped it on automatically before tucking my wallet into my back pocket.
Behind me, Lark disappeared into the bathroom.
The faucet ran for a few seconds before shutting off.
When she stepped back out, she’d traded her oversized sleep shirt for jeans, boots, and a Fallen Lords hoodie. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that looked like she’d given up halfway through.
“You ready?” I asked.
She nodded.
The hallway outside our room was already alive.
Doors stood open all the way down the floor as brothers stepped into the hallway, tugging on cuts, running hands through messy hair, and trying to wake up enough to function.
Nobody joked.
Nobody complained.
Lark fell into step beside me as we headed downstairs.
The closer we got to the common room, the more voices drifted our way.
Church wasn’t happening in the church. There were too many people. The common area was already filling by the time we walked in.
Ever stood beside Jude with a steaming mug wrapped between both hands. Penny stood by Arlo. Scout and Eden shared one end of the couch while Thorn stood behind them with his arms crossed. Fox had already claimed a spot near the fireplace.
Alice stood beside Wrecker. Even she looked serious.
Lark drifted toward Ever while I found an open stretch of wall beside Arlo.
“What the hell’s going on?” he muttered.
I shook my head. “No clue.”
The room settled into an uneasy silence. Then the front door opened, and every head turned.
A guy around my age stepped inside wearing jeans, work boots, and a faded green hoodie. Sandy blond hair stuck out beneath a ball cap, and his eyes immediately swept across the room.
Didn’t know him.
Kingston stepped inside behind him. B followed, shutting the door before jerking a thumb toward the stranger. “We’re here.”
Most people would’ve been intimidated walking into a room packed full of Fallen Lords. This guy looked honored.
Wrecker nodded toward an empty chair.
“Morning, Archie.”
Recognition clicked.
The motel clerk.
Archie gave Wrecker a respectful nod. “Morning.” His eyes traveled around the room. “Good to finally meet everybody.”
Several of the guys nodded back.
Archie took the empty chair without another word.
Wrecker waited until everyone settled. “The van is gone.”
“What the fuck?” Nickel growled.
“What do you mean the van is gone?” Maniac asked.
Wrecker held up his hand to quiet everyone. “Just shut the hell up.” He looked at Archie. “It’s all on the surveillance footage.”
Archie nodded. “Uh, yeah. It is all there.”
Wrecker looked toward B. “Show ‘em.”
B crossed the room to the television mounted on the wall and plugged a flash drive into the side.
The screen flickered before grainy black-and-white security footage filled it.
A timestamp blinked in the upper corner.
2:43 A.M.
The motel parking lot sat empty.
No traffic. No people. Just a white cargo van parked beneath one of the overhead lights.
The room stayed silent.
Five seconds passed. Ten. Nothing.
Then movement. Three figures stepped into view from the darkness. You couldn’t tell where they’d come from; it was like they’d simply appeared.
They all wore dark hoodies with the hoods pulled low over their faces.
One climbed into the driver’s seat. The other two got into the passenger-side sliding door.
The van started and its headlights washed across the empty parking lot.
Slowly... it backed out of the parking space.
“So they were leaving,” Arlo muttered.
The van stopped. Dead still.
Nobody inside moved.
Several long seconds ticked by, and then the driver’s door opened.
One man climbed out.
He shut the door behind him.
Instead of walking away, he turned and headed straight toward the security camera. A cold feeling settled in my gut.
He walked with slow, measured steps. Not looking around. Not searching. He knew exactly where the camera was.
The closer he got, the larger he became on the screen.
Until finally... his face filled almost the entire picture.
His hood shadowed most of his features. Only the smile was clear.
Slow. Confident.
He raised one hand and two knuckles wrapped the screen.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound echoed through the television speakers.
He leaned closer until his breath briefly fogged the lens.
“Tell Wrecker...” He smiled wider. “...we’re coming.”
He pulled back, and he held the stare for another heartbeat.
Then he turned, walked back to the van, and climbed inside. The van pulled away without another second of hesitation and it disappeared into the darkness.
The screen kept recording an empty parking lot.
Nobody in the common room spoke.
Nobody had to.
That message hadn’t been for Archie.
It hadn’t even been for the motel.
It had been left for us.
They hadn’t accidentally been caught on camera. They’d left us a message and they’d made damn sure we’d see it.
I looked toward Alice.
Every sarcastic remark. Every joke. Every smartass comment... gone.
Her face had gone pale.
She wasn’t angry or shocked. She looked afraid.
Real fear. The kind I’d never seen on her face before.
That frightened me almost as much as the video.
If Alice believed the threat... so did everyone else.
The silence shattered as Jude slammed both hands onto the table hard enough to rattle the monitor. “Son of a bitch!”
“They knew exactly where that camera was,” Nickel growled.
“They wanted us to watch it,” Pipe said quietly.
Arlo started pacing. “Let’s find the bastards.”
“They’re sitting out there making videos now?” Scout snapped.
Kingston swore under his breath. “They’re playing games.”
“They’re threatening our families,” Ever whispered.
The room fell quiet again.
Our families.
Not just the club.
Everyone.
Lark moved to me and pressed herself tight against my side, and I held her without thinking.
That message hadn’t been meant for Wrecker alone. It had been meant for every single person standing in that room.
Wrecker finally stepped forward. No one had to be told to quiet down. They simply did.
He looked around at every face that made this club more than a motorcycle club. Then he turned toward the frozen image on the monitor.
“They wanted us scared.” His voice stayed low. Steady. “They wanted us looking over our shoulders.” His jaw tightened. “They wanted us wondering when they’re coming.” He slowly faced the room. “Good.”
Several heads lifted.
“Because they just made this personal.” He let those words settle. “I don’t care how long this takes. I don’t care where they hide. I don’t care how many of them there are.” He pointed toward the monitor. “This...” His voice hardened. “...ends.”
The room was silent.
“If it’s the last fucking thing this club does...” His eyes swept over every brother. Then every woman. Then back to the frozen image. “We’re ending the Northbound Reapers.” He nodded once. “They came after the wrong family.”
No one questioned him.
Looking around the room, I realized every single person there had reached the same conclusion. This wasn’t a mystery anymore.
This was war now.