Chapter 11 – Phoenix
I'm beyond pissed.
I should be upstairs with Ivy, holding her, making sure she knows she's safe. We just had our first night together, something perfect and real that felt like the first good thing I've allowed myself in years, and it's being interrupted by the fucking Vipers.
By Cole Briggs specifically.
The man who spent two years breaking down the woman I just spent the night worshipping. The man who hit her, controlled her, made her feel like being aroused was something to be ashamed of instead of celebrated.
I'm not in the mood for games. Not in the mood for posturing or negotiations or any of the political bullshit that usually comes with MC disputes.
If Cole so much as says Ivy's name wrong, if he dares to talk shit about her, I'm going to rip him apart with my bare hands and damn the consequences.
Judge and I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I can already see the situation laid out in the common room.
Four Vipers. Just like Judge said.
Cole stands in the center, looking exactly like I remember. Average height, built well enough but nothing impressive, with that smile that makes your skin crawl. The kind of man who seems charming until you look in his eyes and see the emptiness there.
Next to him is Razor. Late forties now, gray threading through his beard, wearing his Vipers cut with decades of loyalty sewn into every patch.
He was there when I was in the Vipers, one of the older members who'd been with the club since before my father died.
We'd ridden together, drank together, called each other brother once.
Before Demon poisoned everything.
Razor's eyes meet mine, and I see something there. He knows what this is. Knows what's coming.
And then there are two younger guys. Early twenties at most, probably prospects based on the way they're standing slightly behind Cole.
Their hands keep twitching toward their waistbands, trigger-itch written all over them.
Kids playing at being dangerous, not understanding that real violence isn't about who draws first.
My brothers are already positioned. Four of them. Canvas in the far corner near the bar, Diesel by the door to the garage, Wraith near the stairs, and Saint by the front entrance. Each one armed, each one watching the Vipers with the kind of cold calculation that comes from years of brotherhood.
The Vipers haven't noticed the guns yet. Or if they have, they're pretending not to care.
Mistake.
I step into the room, and all eyes turn to me.
"Phoenix." Cole's voice is smooth, friendly even. Like we're old buddies catching up instead of enemies standing on opposite sides of a war. "Been a while."
"Not long enough," I say flatly. "What do you want, Cole?"
"I think you know what I want." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "My fiancée ran away, and I've been looking for her. And I have it on good authority that she's here."
"Do you?"
"Come on, Phoenix. We both know she came to you. Where else would she go?" Cole's tone is reasonable, like we're discussing the weather. "The girl's confused. Scared. Probably told you some story about me being a bad guy. But she belongs with me. With the Vipers. I'm just here to take her home."
Every word out of his mouth makes my blood boil hotter.
"First of all," I say, my voice deadly calm, "she's not your fiancée.
She ran the night before the wedding, which means she made her choice pretty fucking clear.
Second, she's not confused or scared. She's smart enough to know when she's in danger and brave enough to do something about it.
And third—" I take a step closer, "—she's not going anywhere with you. "
Cole's smile falters slightly. "That's not your call to make."
"It's absolutely my call. She came to the Iron Phoenix asking for protection. I gave it to her. Which means she's under our care now, and you don't get to just walk in here and demand her back like she's a piece of property you misplaced."
"She is my property," Cole snaps, the mask slipping for just a second. "I spent two years investing in that girl, making her into something worth having. She doesn't get to just leave because she's having some kind of breakdown."
Judge makes a sound next to me, low and dangerous. I feel the same rage, but I keep it locked down. Barely.
"Investing," I repeat, my voice flat. "Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot more like abuse. Like you spent two years beating her down, controlling her, making her feel worthless. And now she's had the audacity to escape, and you can't handle it."
"Phoenix." Razor speaks for the first time, his voice gravelly with age and cigarettes. "You don't know what you're talking about."
I turn to look at him. "Don't I, Razor? You were there when my father ran the club. You know what the Vipers used to stand for. You know what they've become. And you're standing here defending a man who beats women? That what you are now?"
Something flickers in Razor's eyes. Shame, maybe. Or regret. But his jaw sets. "I stand with my club."
"Your club is rotten," I say. "And you know it. You've known it for years. You just chose to look the other way."
"Watch your mouth," Razor warns, but there's no heat in it. Just weariness.
I turn back to Cole. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to get on your bikes and ride back to whatever hole Demon's hiding in, and you're going to tell him that Ivy Mason is under Iron Phoenix protection. She's not coming back. Not today, not ever. That's final."
"You're making a mistake," Cole says, but there's an edge to his voice now. "Do you have any idea what you're starting here? This isn't just about one girl. This is about respect. About the Vipers' right to handle our own business."
"Your business?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "She's not your business. She's a human being who chose to leave a bad situation. That's her right."
"She's a Viper old lady—"
"She's nothing of the sort. She never married you. Never took your patch. She was just a woman you terrorized for two years until she finally found the strength to run."
Cole's face is getting red now, anger bleeding through the charming facade.
"You think you can just harbor her here?
You think there won't be consequences? We outnumber you four to one, Phoenix.
The Iron Phoenix is what, nine members? The Vipers have more than forty and more willing to join.
You really want to go to war over one bitch who—"
I move before he can finish the sentence.
My fist connects with Cole's jaw with a satisfying crack. He goes down hard, hitting his knees on the concrete floor.
The room explodes into motion. The two prospects reach for their guns. Razor steps forward.
But my brothers are faster.
Canvas has his gun pressed to Razor's temple before the old man takes two steps. Diesel has one prospect, Saint has the other. Both kids freeze, their hands halfway to their waistbands, eyes wide with the sudden realization that they're outmatched.
"Don't," Diesel says, his gun steady against the prospect's head. "Don't even think about it."
Cole is still on his knees, one hand pressed to his bleeding mouth. He looks up at me with pure hatred in his eyes.
"That's the line," I say, my voice cold. "You can threaten me. You can threaten my club. You can talk all the shit you want about starting a war. But you call her a bitch… You disrespect her in my clubhouse, and I'm going to make you regret ever learning her name."
I grab him by his cut, hauling him up just enough to look him in the eyes.
"Ivy is under my protection now. That means she's untouchable. You come near her again, you send prospects to scout her location, you so much as think her name too loud, and I will personally make sure you don't walk away from the consequences. Do you understand me?"
Cole spits blood on my floor. "Fuck you, Blake. You just declared war on the Vipers."
"No," I correct, my voice deadly calm. "You declared war when you put your hands on a woman who couldn't fight back. I'm just the one who's finally going to make you pay for it."
I shove him back down to his knees. Then I look at Razor, who's standing very still with Canvas's gun still pressed to his head.
"Razor. You and I rode together once. Drank together. Called each other brother. So, I'm going to give you a message to take back to Demon, and you're going to deliver it word for word. For old times' sake."
Razor's expression is neutral, but I see the acknowledgment in his eyes.
"Tell Demon that Ivy Mason is under Iron Phoenix protection.
Tell him that any attempt to retrieve her, harm her, or intimidate her will be met with immediate and overwhelming retaliation.
Tell him that I'm drawing a line right here, right now, and if he crosses it, I'll finish what I should have finished three years ago. "
"He won't accept that," Razor says.
"I don't give a fuck what he accepts. Those are the terms." I release Cole and step back. "Now get out of my clubhouse. All of you. And Razor, make sure Cole understands that if he comes back here, he's not leaving alive."
Canvas, Diesel, and Saint step back, lowering their guns but keeping them visible. The message is clear. We're letting them leave, but only because we choose to.
The two prospects help Cole to his feet. He's still bleeding, still glaring at me with that impotent rage.
"This isn't over," he says.
"No," I agree. "It's not. But the next time we meet, it'll be on a battlefield.
And Cole," I wait until he looks at me. "I want you to remember something.
Every bruise you put on Ivy, every time you made her feel small or scared or worthless, every moment of pain you caused her, I'm going to return it tenfold.
By the time I'm done with you, you're going to wish you'd never laid eyes on her. "