Chapter 8 - Ruthless
Watching Angel get dressed is its own kind of torture. Every movement reminds me of what we just shared, how perfectly she fit against me. The marks on her neck – my marks – stand out against her skin, and a primal part of me feels satisfied. Let everyone see who she belongs to now.
"Stop looking at me like that," she says, pulling on her jeans. "We'll never make it to the clubhouse if you don't."
I chuckle, finally moving to get dressed myself. "Can't help it, baby. You're something else."
She blushes but keeps moving, efficient, and focused. It's impressive how quickly she switches modes – from soft and vulnerable to Iron & Blood member ready for war. The duality of her never fails to amaze me.
Once we're both dressed and have our cuts back on, I pull her close for one more kiss. She melts into it before pulling away with a groan.
"We really need to go."
"I know." I check my phone – three missed calls from Crow. "Shit. We're already late."
The ride to the clubhouse is quick, both of us hyper-aware of our surroundings. After the Crossroads incident, we can't be too careful. Angel holds onto me tight, and even through the tension of what we're heading into, I can't help but enjoy the feel of her against my back.
The parking lot is packed when we arrive – every member's bike present. As we dismount, I notice Angel wincing slightly.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Just... sore. The good kind."
Christ. The way she says it makes me want to take her right back home. But then the clubhouse door opens, and Crow sticks his head out.
"Finally! Get your asses in here. Hellfire's about to start without you."
We follow him inside, where the main room is oddly empty – everyone must be in the reunion room already. Before we reach the doors, I catch Angel's arm.
"Ready for this?"
She straightens her shoulders, lifting her chin. "Born ready."
And looking at her now – strong, beautiful, fearless – I believe it. Whatever comes next, whatever this war brings, we'll face it together.
We enter the room, and every head turns our way. The silence is deafening.
Hellfire sits at the head of the table, his face unreadable. His eyes move from Angel to me, lingering on the marks visible on her neck, and I feel his jaw clench from here. But he says nothing, just gestures to the empty seats.
Angel takes her place next to Vice-President Butcher, and I settle into my usual spot – right hand side, two seats down from Hellfire. The irony of my position as the club's protector while I'm sleeping with the president's daughter isn't lost on me.
"Now that everyone's here," Hellfire's voice fills the room, "let's talk about the Outlaws."
Crow leans forward. "Word is they're gathering forces. Called in members from other chapters."
"They're planning something big," Butcher adds from his corner. "My contact at the docks says they've been moving unusual shipments. Fewer girls and more weapons."
"They're preparing for war," I say, meeting Hellfire's eyes. "After tonight, they'll want blood."
"Tonight?" Wrath asks, looking between Angel and me. "What happened tonight?"
Hellfire nods at Angel, giving her the floor. She stands, and I feel proud of her steady voice as she recounts the Crossroads incident. No one interrupts, but I see hands tightening on the table and faces darkening with anger as she describes the Outlaws' threats.
"They recognized you?" Wrath asks when she finishes.
"Yes. They knew exactly who I was."
"This changes things," Maverick speaks up. "They're not just hitting us or our business anymore. They're targeting family."
"Exactly," Hellfire's voice is deadly calm. "They came after my daughter. Think they're sending a message? Fine. Let's send one back."
"What's the play?" I ask, already thinking through strategies.
"We hit them where it hurts," Hellfire stands, planting his hands on the table. "We've destroyed one of their weapon stashes, but that seems to haven't been enough. Their drug routes? We're shutting them down. Their allies? We'll make sure everyone knows backing the Outlaws is a death sentence."
Murmurs of agreement fill the room. This is what we do best – strategic violence with a purpose.
"Ruthless," he turns to me, and for a moment, I see not just my president but my brother-in-arms. "You'll lead the drug routes raid. Take whoever you need."
I nod, already mentally selecting my team. "We'll need intel first. Location, security details."
"Already on it," Crow grins. "Got a lead on one of their prospects. Kid's got a gambling problem and loose lips when he drinks."
"Good." Hellfire looks around the table. "This isn't just about territory anymore. This is about family. About showing them what happens when you threaten one of our own."
"I want in," Angel says suddenly, and the room goes quiet again.
"No," Hellfire and I say simultaneously, which draws a few knowing looks from around the table.
Angel stands again, her eyes blazing.
"I earned my patch. I can fight – I proved it tonight. And they came after me. I deserve to be part of this."
"Angel—" Hellfire starts, but she cuts him off.
"No, Dad. You can't keep protecting me forever. I'm Iron & Blood. If we're going to war, I want to be on the front lines, not hidden away like some princess in a tower."
Pride and fear war in my chest. She's right – she's earned her place. But the thought of her in direct combat with the Outlaws makes my blood run cold.
"She has a point," Butcher speaks up, surprising everyone. "Girl can handle herself. Plus, having her involved sends a stronger message. Shows we trust our women to fight alongside us."
Hellfire's eyes meet mine across the table, and I see my own conflict mirrored there. We both want to protect her, but we also know what it means to be denied your right to fight.
"Fine," Hellfire finally says, though his voice is tight. "But you work with Ruthless's team. You follow orders. No lone wolf shit."
"Understood," Angel nods, but I can see the victory shine in her eyes.
"Now," Hellfire continues, "Butcher, what's the status on our weapons?"
As Butcher starts his report, I catch Angel's eye across the table. She gives me a small smile that somehow manages to be both apologetic and defiant. I shake my head slightly but can't help smiling back.
This isn't how I imagined our first night together ending – planning a war in the Clubhouse with her father watching us like a hawk. But then again, nothing about us has ever been conventional.
"One more thing," Hellfire's voice draws everyone's attention back. "The Outlaws will be expecting us to hit back. They'll be watching, waiting. So we need to be smart about this. Calculated."
"Ruthless," he turns to me again, "I want a plan on my desk tomorrow. Something they won't see coming."
I nod, already forming ideas. "They'll expect us to go in guns blazing. We'll do the opposite. Silent, precise, devastating."
"Like the military op in Kandahar," Hellfire says, and we share a look of understanding. That mission had been brutal but effective.
"Exactly," I confirm. "They won't know what hit them until it's too late."
The meeting continues, but my mind is already racing with strategies, contingencies, and, above all, how to keep Angel safe while letting her fight her own battles.
Because this war? It just got a lot more complicated.