Chapter 17
KEVLAR
They came at night. There was no subtlety or caution. Just arrogance.
Three blacked-out SUVs rolled up to the edge of our compound, creeping slowly like they thought we wouldn’t notice. As though they were the hunters and we were just some unsuspecting prey sleeping behind our walls.
But we saw them coming before they breached the tree line.
Idiots.
They weren’t ready for what was coming. Not for the kind of welcome that comes with silencers, steel, and a body count.
The compound was deceptively quiet. Dinner was wrapped up, the lights were low, and most of the club was either in the lounge or guarding the perimeter.
Rebel had been patrolling the south fence line when he saw the first glint of glass in the trees.
Cross was posted on the north entrance. Tomcat and Echo were inside the camera room with Wizard, reviewing exterior loops.
I was coming out of the armory when I got the call over comms.
“Company at the south tree line,” Rebel announced. “Three SUVs. Running dark. They think they’re being slick.”
That was all it took to bring the entire Hounds compound to life. But it wasn’t flashy like people would think. Floodlights didn’t flicker on. Sirens didn’t wail. That wasn’t how we did things. We weren’t loud or obvious. We moved like men who understood silence and how to use it to our advantage.
Fallon and Ink were already making their way through the shadows, each slipping from different corners of the lot. Blaze had been standing with King in my office, so all three of us were armed and ready within seconds.
When we exited the building, I took point. They were coming for her, and no one touched what was mine.
We let the first team get through the fence. Three men on foot, dressed in matte black vests under jackets, weapons tucked close to their bodies. One of them peeled toward the back, another hung low by the garage wall, and the third headed toward the front door.
They didn’t make it ten steps.
The first one dropped when Cruze cut through the dark and slit his throat from behind. The man didn’t make a sound as his body hit the gravel.
The second went down harder, taken by Rebel in a fast, brutal hit. One punch to the ribs, then another to the head, knocking him out.
The third one was mine.
He was fast—one of the quick, twitchy types who thought speed would save him. It didn’t. I met him halfway between the path and the porch, caught his wrist mid-reach, twisted until the bone popped, and slammed him face-first into the ground.
His breath left in a sharp gasp, and I dropped to one knee beside him. “You picked the wrong fucking house.”
He went for a knife. I snapped his arm at the elbow.
“Kev,” Tomcat called, voice low in my comm. “South gate. Three more.”
“Got it,” I answered, already rising.
The next team was better trained. They didn’t bunch together as they swept the southern side like they’d drilled for it, each one covering angles and moving tight.
Echo took the one on the left with a suppressed round to the base of the skull.
Cross came in from the east and buried a blade in the chest of the second.
The third tried to run. Ink caught him at the corner of the garage and introduced him to the butt of his rifle. The man crumpled, groaning, and Ink stepped over him without even looking back.
I glanced down at him, debating.
“Leave him for now,” King ordered as he stepped from the shadows. “He’s out cold, and he might be the one we’ll get to talk.”
We dragged the survivor to the small building at the back of the compound, shrouded in the trees. It was where we took people to be questioned. And where some of those people never walked back out.
By the time we got there, Flint had a saline bag hanging and a compression wrap around the bastard’s head to make sure he didn’t pass out on us before we were done asking questions.
I stood in front of him, my arms crossed and shirt still streaked with blood. Tomcat leaned against the wall, his eyes flat. Cruze took a chair across the room and sat, spinning a knife between his fingers like he was bored.
Blaze pulled up a chair and sat backward on it, his arms braced across the top, eyes cold.
King stepped in last. Silent and immovable. The only sound was the door shutting behind him.
I grabbed the man’s chin and made him look at me. “Start talking.”
He didn’t answer. So I punched him in the ribs. Then the jaw.
The man spat, and a smear of blood hit the floor. I didn’t blink.
“You came for her. Thought you could kill what belongs to me.”
“She’s yours?” the guy croaked.
That earned him a boot to the chest. Courtesy of King.
The man wheezed and coughed, looking like he was trying to say something, but couldn't catch his breath.
“Don’t try to bullshit me,” I growled. “It’ll only make this worse for you. You come to kill my woman and—”
“We weren’t sent to kill her,” he argued, cutting me off. “Not unless we had to.”
That got my attention. “What was the objective?”
“We were supposed to grab her. Trade her. Leverage. Dunbar figured he could use her to negotiate. Trade her for access. Maybe scare you into backing off.”
I stepped forward. “And if we didn’t?”
“If we couldn’t extract…eliminate,” he gasped.
The fury that tore through me was so white-hot I nearly saw red. But I held it in check. Barely.
“Give me his location,” I growled.
He hesitated.
Cruze’s knife stopped spinning.
The man’s eyes darted to him, then back to me. “Old feed store. Six miles out. They’re moving everything tonight.”
That was all we needed.
King’s voice was cold. “You know what happens now.”
The guy was shaking. “I gave you what you wanted.”
I didn’t stay to handle the little bastard. He wasn’t the one I wanted.
“Ink and Flint will deal with disposal,” Blaze assured me. “We’ll roll out in ten.”
I nodded and headed back to the clubhouse, straight to the armory. Those of us who were armed reloaded, and the others got outfitted.
Then we were on the move. Ready for war.
Blaze met us on the way out, carrying a burn bag—accelerant, ignition bricks, gear for a fast exit.
The feed store was more than just a building. It was a fucking fortress, but not for long. We cut the power and moved in fast. They had guards posted—well-trained and well-equipped. We didn’t care.
They opened fire.
We answered back.
It was chaos. Sharp, brutal, and fast.
I dropped one coming around the corner, then snapped the neck of the second who lunged at King. Tomcat cleared the catwalk. Rebel shot out the floodlights.
When the last body hit the ground, the store was dark, still, and full of the stench of gunpowder.
I looked around at the bodies littering the floor and felt fury and guilt pummeling me. I’d checked each corpse outside, too. No Dunbar. The fucker better not have escaped again, free to rebuild somewhere else and put more lives in danger.
Cross whistled low and shook his head, drawing my attention. He’d been examining the main room where we’d gathered. I glanced around and saw what he’d picked up on.
“Fuck,” I muttered. This place was more than we’d expected—it was a whole fucking operation. Tables, boxes, documents, and more weapons than we’d seen at the depot.
King started to say something, but paused when we heard a noise from behind a door a few feet away.
A slow, sinister smile cut across my face. I stalked to the door and tested the knob. Locked. A second later, the door came crashing down when my boot hit just the right spot.
And there he was. The evil motherfucker who’d almost taken everything from me. He was plastered up against the back wall of the storage closet, between rows of shelves holding more cases of shit that had no business being in anyone’s hands.
“K-Kevlar,” he stammered. “It’s been a long time.”
I raised my pistol and pointed it at his head.
“Wait!” he shrieked. “I have information. I can—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled. Keeping my eyes trained on Dunbar, I spoke into my comms. “Wizard? We need him?”
“Nah,” he replied. “I’ve dug up most of the shit on the parent company and the buyers. Our friend gave up a few more details.”
Before the next day was gone, Wizard would have everything he needed to pass the info along to the feds. He’d make sure it was airtight, and they had no roadblocks in taking those assholes down.
“King?” I asked.
“Your call.”
A part of me wanted to make Dunbar suffer.
To cause him pain over and over until I felt he’d paid for his sins.
Except nothing would ever be enough. And I was tired of this shit.
I wanted it done, to go back to my woman without this cloud hanging over us.
To finally tell her I loved her and make her mine in every way.
One clean shot between the eyes, and it was done.
We dragged the bodies to the center of the main room and then stood back and let Blaze get to work. When he was done, nothing would be left. No evidence. Just ash.
Twenty minutes later, he lit the place up. The fire was bright and hot, a towering column of smoke that lit the night sky like a sign that vengeance had been served.
We stood together, watching the flames throw long shadows over the dirt. I watched the fire until the roof caved in, the heat stinging my face.
By the time we climbed back on our bikes, I hadn’t said a word. There was only one thought in my head.
Maren.
I needed to see her. Touch her. Remind myself that she was alive, safe, and mine.