Chapter 18
The chapel was full.
Mandy stood against the wall, watching the Sons gather around the heavy oak table.
Every officer was present—Patriot at the head, Gunner to his right, Gallows and Turnpike flanking.
Powder stood near the door with barely contained energy, and Bayonet had claimed his usual shadow in the corner.
Riot was beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched, a silent reminder that she belonged here.
Three days of hunting. Three days of tracking Trevor Boone through a network of informants, security cameras, and sheer determination. And now they'd found him.
"How many men?" Gunner asked.
"Best guess? Four, maybe five. Whatever's left of his crew after we gutted them." Patriot's smile was sharp. "He's running on fumes. No muscle, no brain, no cleaner. Just him and a handful of loyalists too stupid to cut their losses."
"Security?"
"Cameras on the perimeter. Motion sensors on the main doors. Nothing we can't handle." Gallows' voice was flat, professional. "The real question is whether he runs when he sees us coming."
"He will." The words came out before Mandy could stop them.
Every head in the room turned toward her, and she felt her cheeks flush—but she didn't back down.
"If he sees the assault coming, he'll run.
That's who he is. Trevor plans everything twice and always has an exit strategy.
The moment he knows he's cornered, he'll disappear and start over somewhere else. "
Patriot studied her. "You sound certain."
"I am." She stepped forward, closer to the table, ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach.
"I spent months cleaning houses while his crew robbed my clients.
I didn't know what I was seeing at the time, but I watched the patterns.
Trevor never hit a house unless he had three escape routes planned.
Never moved on a target without knowing exactly how to vanish if things went wrong. "
"So we don't give him the chance to run." Riot's voice was hard. "Hit fast, hit hard. He doesn't see us coming until we're already through the door."
"Can we do that?" Mandy looked around the table. "Get close enough without triggering his security?"
"We've got two approaches." Turnpike pointed at the map.
"Front entrance is obvious—main road, clear sight lines.
He'll see a convoy coming from a mile away.
But there's a service road from the east. Overgrown, barely maintained.
Comes out behind the warehouse where the camera coverage is thinnest."
"Blind spot?"
"Close enough. If we move at night, kill the headlights, come in quiet—we can be at the back door before he knows we're there."
Powder grinned. "And then we make noise."
"Controlled noise." Patriot's voice cut through the room. "This isn't the compound assault. We're not defending territory—we're ending a threat. Clean, fast, final. Trevor Boone doesn't walk out of that warehouse alive."
The words hung in the air, heavy with intent. Mandy felt Riot shift beside her, felt the tension coiling in his body. This was it. The final battle. Everything they'd survived leading to this moment.
"What about his exit routes?" she asked. "If he has escape plans—"
"We cover them." Gallows nodded at her, something like approval in his cold eyes. "Bayonet takes the east. Turnpike takes the west. Anyone who tries to run gets cut down before they clear the perimeter."
"And the main force?"
"Front door." Patriot stood, his presence filling the room. "Riot, you're with me and Gunner. Powder handles breaching. We go in hard and don't stop until Trevor's dead."
"What about me?" Mandy's voice was steady despite the hammering of her heart. "I want to be there."
Silence. The brothers exchanged glances—some skeptical, some considering. Riot went rigid beside her.
"Mandy—"
"I've earned this." She cut him off, meeting Patriot's eyes directly. "I've fought beside you. Bled beside you. I'm the reason this war started, and I deserve to see how it ends."
"She's right." Turnpike's voice surprised everyone. "She held her own during the compound assault. Took down two of Trevor's men herself. And this is personal for her in ways it isn't for any of us."
"It's dangerous." Riot's jaw was tight. "You could get hurt. Killed."
"I could have gotten killed a dozen times already.
" Mandy turned to face him, unflinching.
"I could have died at the safehouse, or the compound, or any of the nights in between.
But I didn't. Because I'm not the scared woman who showed up at Jenny's apartment anymore.
I'm someone who fights for what she wants. "
"And what do you want?"
"To watch Trevor Boone fall." The words came out fierce, certain. "To be there when he realizes that everything he did—the threats, the destruction, the people he made disappear—wasn't enough. That he lost anyway."
Riot stared at her for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—from protective to proud, from worry to acceptance.
"She rides with me," he said to Patriot. "Stays at my back the whole time. Anything happens, I get her out."
Patriot considered, then nodded. "Done. But you follow orders, both of you. This isn't the time for heroics."
"Understood." Mandy felt something loosen in her chest. Gratitude, maybe. Or just the relief of being trusted.
"Then we're set." Patriot looked around the table, meeting each brother's eyes in turn. "This ends tonight. Trevor Boone has terrorized this city for six years. Made witnesses disappear, destroyed lives, thought he was untouchable. We're going to show him how wrong he was."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The energy shifted—from planning to preparation, from strategy to action. Brothers started moving, checking weapons, making final preparations.
Mandy watched them work and felt the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders. This was real. Tonight, she would walk into a battle that might kill her. Tonight, she would face the man who'd tried to destroy everything she loved.
And tonight, one way or another, it would end.
"Hey." Riot's hand found hers, fingers interlacing. "You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." She squeezed his hand. "Are you?"
"I'm sure I want Trevor dead. Sure I want you safe." He pulled her closer, voice dropping low. "Not sure I want you in that warehouse where bullets might fly."
"I know." She reached up and touched his face. "But I need this. I need to see it end. Not hear about it afterward, not imagine what happened—I need to be there. Can you understand that?"
"I understand." He turned his head, pressed a kiss to her palm. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"You don't have to like it. You just have to trust me."
"Always." He pulled her against his chest, arms wrapping around her like armor. "Stay close to me in there. Whatever happens, stay close."
"I will." She breathed him in—leather and gunpowder and something that was just him. "And when it's over—"
"When it's over, we start living." He kissed the top of her head. "That's the deal."
The next hour was controlled chaos. Brothers gathered weapons, checked ammunition, made sure everything was in order. Mandy watched them work—the precision, the focus, the absolute professionalism of men who'd done this before.
Gallows handed her a pistol—the same one she'd used during the compound assault, cleaned and reloaded. "You remember how to use it?"
"Point and shoot." She checked the safety, the magazine, the chamber. "Don't think, just react."
"Good." His cold eyes warmed fractionally. "Stay behind Riot. Stay low. Don't be a hero."
"I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm trying to survive."
"Same thing, in this life." He moved on, checking the next brother's equipment.
The sun set while they prepared, painting the compound in shades of orange and red. War colors. Blood colors. Mandy stood in the courtyard and watched the sky darken, feeling the anticipation building in her chest.
"Convoy rolls in five." Patriot's voice carried across the yard. "Final check."
Brothers gathered. Cuts were straightened. Weapons were secured. Bikes lined up in formation, engines idling, ready to move.
Riot appeared at her side, helmet in hand. His face was set in hard lines, that lethal focus she'd learned to recognize. The chaos in him was quiet now—focused, directed, ready to be unleashed.
"Stay behind me," he said again. "No matter what."
"I know."
"If something happens to me—"
"Nothing's happening to you." She grabbed his cut and pulled him down for a kiss—brief but fierce. "We're both walking out of that warehouse. Both of us."
"Damn right we are." He kissed her back, then pulled away. "Time to end this."
They mounted the bike together, Mandy's arms wrapping around his waist. Around them, the convoy took shape—a dozen machines, two dozen brothers, the combined force of the Sons of Liberty ready for war.
Patriot rolled to the front, looked back at his men, and raised his fist.
"For the club," he shouted. "For our territory. For everyone these bastards hurt."
A roar of agreement. Engines revved. The gate swung open.
The convoy rolled out into the night, chrome glinting under streetlights, the rumble of V-twins echoing off row house walls. They moved through Philadelphia like a storm gathering force—inevitable, unstoppable, bent on destruction.
Mandy held tight to Riot's back and felt fear and fury battling in her chest. Trevor Boone was out there somewhere, hiding in his warehouse, thinking he was safe. Thinking he'd gotten away with everything.
He was wrong.
Tonight, the Sons were coming for him. And they wouldn't stop until justice was done.
The city blurred past. The convoy turned onto the highway, engines roaring, picking up speed.
They were ending this tonight.
One way or another.