8. Forge
EIGHT
FORGE
I called church before they arrived. Full table, Knox, Wreck, Razor, Ghost, all fifteen patched members of the Wild Savages.
I laid it out to them in full. The USB drive, the financials, the shipping records, the Brennan flip, the federal case that could end Viktor Volkov and stop them from making moves on our business.
I told them about Inessa, about how she gave us the intel in return for our protection.
I didn’t tell them I slept with her though. That part's mine.
The vote was unanimous. The Wild Savages have been at war with the Volkovs for three years. Two dead brothers. Constant pressure. The chance to end it, really end it — wasn't something anyone needed to debate.
Now Reeves is sitting in the chapel, reviewing the evidence, and her expression has gone from skeptical to hungry. I know that look. It's the look of a federal agent who just got handed the case of her career on a silver platter.
"This is comprehensive," Reeves says, flipping through printed documents. "The wire transfer chain to the weapons shipment alone would justify a RICO indictment. Combined with the political corruption, the money laundering, the customs fraud..." She looks up. "Who put this together?"
"I did," Inessa says.
She's sitting at the far end of the table. She looks like any other woman in her late twenties, except for the way she holds herself, spine straight, chin level, hands folded on the table with a stillness that comes from years of sitting across from dangerous men and surviving.
Reeves studies her. "You're Viktor Volkov's daughter?”
"Yes."
"And you're willing to testify?"
"I'm willing to provide evidence and context. I'm not going into witness protection."
"Ms. Volkov, WITSEC?—"
"Is a cage with a different lock. I didn't spend three years stealing my freedom to hand it to the federal government."
Reeves looks at me. I look back. She's smart enough to read the situation, this isn't negotiable.
"We can discuss the terms of your cooperation separately," Reeves says. "But I want to be clear, if we move on your father, it needs to be fast. Once he knows there's a leak?—"
"He'll send Dmitri," Inessa says. "His enforcer. We have only a few days."
Reeves closes her briefcase. "I can have a warrant in forty-eight hours."
"Then get it done."
We walk Reeves and her partner to their car. When they're gone, I turn to Inessa. She's standing in the parking lot, arms crossed, face tilted up to the sun. Her eyes are closed. She looks, light. Lighter than I've seen her.
"It's happening," she says.
“It is. I hope you are sure about this.”
She opens her eyes. Looks at me. Smiles.
I've seen Inessa Volkov negotiate with federal agents, take apart her father's empire, and hold steady under pressure that would break most people.
But I've never seen her smile, not like this.
Open. Real. The smile of a woman who's been holding her breath for three years and just remembered how to exhale.
I want to kiss her in the parking lot. I want to pick her up and carry her inside and spend the next forty-eight hours in bed.
Instead, I say, "We need to prepare for the war that’s coming."
The smile dims. Not gone, just shaded. "I know."
"The club's going on lockdown. You stay at the clubhouse, not the house. I want you behind walls and patched members until the feds move. We can protect you better here.”
"Okay."
No argument. She knows the stakes better than anyone.
I reach out and push a strand of hair from her face. A small gesture. Public. Knox is watching from the clubhouse door with the world's most obvious smile.
I don't care.
"After this is over," I say, "we're going to talk about what happens next."
"I already told you what I want."
"I know. But there's a conversation about what it means to be in this life, really in it. And I owe you that conversation before you commit to anything."
She steps closer. Her hand on my chest. My heart hammering under her palm.
"I've been in a life that hurts," she says quietly. "I'd like to try one that doesn't."
The next forty-eight hours are controlled chaos.
The clubhouse goes on lockdown. I've done this twice before, once during the Leveaux situation, once when a rival MC pushed into our territory two years ago.
Each time, the club transforms from a place where men drink beer and play pool into something almost military.
Doors are reinforced. Windows are covered.
The back exits are cleared. The front lot is gated with a chain link barrier that Wreck drags into place with his bare hands, the metal screeching on the asphalt.
Inessa's phone rings that afternoon. She pulls the phone from her jacket pocket and stares at the screen. Doesn't answer. Doesn't move.
"Who?" I ask.
“Yuri."
The name lands in the room like a grenade nobody's pulled the pin on yet. Yuri Petrov. Her minder. The one Viktor kept glued to her hip for years, the one we sent back to Houston with a story about Inessa needing space and time to get close to me.
"Answer it," Knox says from the doorway. He's already got his arms crossed, already calculating. "Put it on speaker."
She taps the screen. Sets the phone on the bar top. Yuri's voice fills the room, low and quick, the accent thicker than usual. Scared.
"Inessa. Listen. Don't talk. Viktor knows. I don't know how, but he knows you went to the federals. He called me an hour ago. He's sending Dmitri. Maybe he’s already sent him. You understand what that means?”
I understand what that means. Dmitri Volkov doesn't negotiate. Dmitri Volkov doesn't ask questions. He shows up, and then somebody doesn't leave.
"Why are you calling me?" Inessa's voice is flat. Controlled. But her hand on the bar top has gone white at the knuckles.
"Because six years is six years." A pause. Something shuffling on his end, like he's moving through a room fast, grabbing things. “And because I'm not Dmitri."
The line goes dead.
Nobody speaks for three full seconds. Then everybody speaks at once.
"How fast can Dmitri move from Houston?" Razor asks.
He's leaning against the pool table, arms loose at his sides, voice the same pitch it always is.
Like we're not talking about a bratva enforcer with a body count longer than my rap sheet.
"If Viktor called an hour ago, we're looking at a window.
Does he have local contacts who move first? "
"Viktor keeps a crew in Dallas," Inessa says. "Four men. Dmitri would call them before he gets here."
"Dallas is three hours," Knox says. He's already moving toward the back office. "Razor, get the perimeter cameras live. All of them. I want eyes on the access road, the back lot, and the tree line past the fence. Wreck."
Wreck's been pacing since Yuri's voice came through the speaker. Big circles near the front door, fists opening and closing. He stops when Knox says his name.
"Let me take two guys south. Intercept on the highway before they even get close."
"No." Knox doesn't look up. "We don't know what we're intercepting yet. Could be four guys. Could be twelve. We hold position until we know numbers."
"Holding position is how you get pinned down."
"Holding position is how you don't ride into an ambush with two guys and good intentions. Lock it down, Wreck. I need you here."
Wreck's jaw works. He doesn't argue again, but I can see him filing it. He'll bring it back up later. He always does.
I watch Inessa. She hasn't moved from the bar.
Her eyes are on the dead phone, and I can read the math she's doing because I'm doing it too.
Yuri called. Yuri, who never once in six years broke protocol, who walked three steps behind her and reported every conversation.
Yuri broke ranks to warn her. Which means Yuri is scared enough of what Viktor's planning that his conscience finally outweighed his survival instinct.
Which means whatever's coming is worse than what we're imagining.
Ghost appears at her elbow. I didn't see him cross the room. He sets a glass of water on the bar in front of her and steps back without a word. She picks it up. Drinks. Her hand is steady now.
I cross to her. Put my palm on the back of her neck, feel the tension locked in like rebar.
"We knew this was coming," I say.
"Not this fast."
"Doesn't change the plan. Changes the clock."
She nods. Sets the glass down. Looks at me with those eyes that don't flinch, that haven't flinched once since she walked into my clubhouse with a USB drive and the nerve to bet her life on a stranger.
Knox comes back with a laptop showing the camera feeds. Wreck's checking the weapons locker. Ghost is at the front, watching the road like he was born doing it.
I keep my hand on Inessa's neck for one more second. Then I let go and get to work.
Anyone who isn’t supposed to be in the compound is moved out, and soon enough it’s just the brothers and Inessa.
Prospects run supplies, food, water, ammunition, in case with have a siege situation.
Knox coordinates with our contacts in the brPD, we have two cops on the payroll who can give us advance notice if bratva-connected vehicles enter the city.
Not ideal, working with cops, but the Wild Savages are pragmatists.
Wreck is assigned to perimeter security, which means he patrols the front gate with his arms crossed and his cage face on.
Anyone approaching the clubhouse has to deal with six-four of tattooed deterrence before they get inside.
Inessa moves into my room at the clubhouse, because it's the safest room in the building.
Reinforced door, no windows, direct access to the back hallway that leads to the garage and the secondary exit.
She's calm and focused. The calmness of a woman who's been living under threat her entire life and has simply moved from one kind of siege to another.