Chapter 16 #2
I leave her there and head back outside. Cole and Steele are already posted up across the street. I give them a nod as I swing my leg over my bike.
As I pull away from the clinic, I can’t stop thinking about the look on Scarlett’s face when she said she missed me touching her. I’m ready for this shit to be over too. And when it is, I’m not letting her out of my sight for a long fucking time.
I pull into the clubhouse lot and park my bike near the others. Cole and Steele are still posted up at the clinic, which means this meeting is important enough that Pres wanted most of the senior members here.
I head inside and make my way to the chapel. The door is already open, and the low rumble of voices spills out into the hallway. When I step inside, I do a quick sweep of the room.
Pres is already at the head of the table, arms crossed over his chest as he talks quietly with Riot.
Piston sits to Pres's right, looking like he hasn't slept in days.
Ghost and Switch are on the other side, while Rev, Blade, and Lucky are scattered further down.
Wyatt and Weston are posted up near the back, both unusually quiet.
Jax, Tiny, Knox, Dagger, and Tank are here too.
I take the open chair between Tiny and Knox.
The second the door closes, Pres plants his hands on the table.
"Alright. Let's get into it."
The room settles immediately.
Pres nods toward Riot.
Riot opens the folder in front of him and slides several printed pages across the table.
"We've been digging into Samuel Cross since we figured out who he was. What we've got isn't good. Cross got out eight months ago after his conviction was overturned. About five years ago, his nephew patched into the Southside Kings. That's how Cross got close to their leadership."
The room goes quiet.
"We were wrong when we believed the Kings weren't involved with Tessa's kidnapping," Riot continues. "Turns out they've been protecting Cross. He's been feeding them information and money, and they've been helping him stay hidden."
A low murmur moves through the room.
Riot flips to another page.
"We also know he's been watching Piston's family for months. The photos weren't random. He's been tracking Scarlett, Jenny, and Piston specifically."
Piston's jaw tightens, but he stays silent.
Pres lifts a hand and the room quiets again.
"The Kings have been pushing at our borders more aggressively the last few months," Pres says. "Cross is giving them reasons to keep coming. This isn't just revenge anymore. He's using Piston's past to create problems for the club."
Piston finally speaks.
"He's not gonna stop until he gets what he wants."
His voice is low and rough.
"And what he wants is me bleeding."
The room falls silent.
Pres nods once.
"That's why we're not taking any chances. Scarlett and Jenny stay protected at all times. No exceptions."
Dagger leans forward.
"What about the nephew?"
"Lucky's keeping tabs on him," Pres says. "So far he's staying quiet, but we're not ruling anything out."
Lucky nods from the end of the table.
Pres looks around the room.
"We need leads. Real ones. Cross is out there somewhere planning his next move. I want every contact we have shaken down. I want eyes on every known King associate. Updates every twelve hours."
He pauses.
"Until we find him, nobody lets their guard down."
Piston lifts his head.
"I want him found. I don't care what it takes. He put his hands on my family. That shit doesn't go unanswered."
Several brothers nod.
Pres studies him for a moment.
"We'll find him. But we do it smart. We don't hand him an opening."
Piston doesn't argue.
Pres shifts his attention to the rest of us.
"Rook, you're on Scarlett during the day. Cole and Steele relieve you at noon. At night, we rotate two men on the house."
I nod.
"Wyatt. Weston. You're on Jenny when she leaves the house. Jax, Knox, you're with Tank watching the south side. I want to know if any King crosses into our territory."
Everyone nods.
Pres leans back in his chair.
"This motherfucker thinks he can come after one of our own and get away with it. He's wrong. We find him, we end this, and we remind the Southside Kings what happens when they come at the Iron Reapers."
He looks around the room one last time.
"Any questions?"
No one speaks.
"Church is over."
Chairs scrape back as brothers stand.
I wait a beat, then stand up and follow him. He doesn’t head toward the main room like everyone else. Instead, he turns down the short hallway that leads to the offices. I already know where he’s going.
When I reach his office, the door is half open.
Piston is sitting behind his desk, elbows planted on the wood, head in his hands.
I push the door the rest of the way and step inside, closing it quietly behind me.
He doesn’t look up when I walk in. For a second, I just stand there, watching him.
He looks exhausted. Worn down in a way I’ve never seen from him before.
I lean back against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. “Talk to me.”
Piston doesn’t move at first. Then he slowly lowers his hands and leans back in his chair.
He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes tired and heavy.
For a second, I think he’s going to tell me to get the fuck out.
Instead, he lets out a rough breath and drags a hand over his face.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks, voice rough.
I shrug. “You used to be my best friend,” I say. “I’m the person you talked to about shit like this. So forget everything else for a minute… and just talk.”
Piston stares at me for a long second. Then, without a word, he reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He pours a couple fingers into each one, then slides one across the desk toward me.
I push off the wall, grab the glass, and sit down in the chair across from him. We clink glasses and both take a sip. The burn is familiar. Comforting, almost.
Piston leans back in his chair and stares at the glass in his hand for a long moment before he finally speaks.
“When I found that girl in that basement… I knew if I didn’t get her out, she was dead.
I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think about what it would do to him.
I just knew I couldn’t walk away.” He shakes his head.
“And now he’s out and he’s coming after my family because of it. ”
Piston takes another drink then sets his glass down.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to protect the people I care about.
My wife. And daughter, you, this club. And now some sick fuck from my past is sitting somewhere taking pictures of them like he’s already won.
” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “I don’t even know how long he’s been watching them.
Could’ve been months. And I didn’t have a fucking clue. ”
He stares down into his glass. “I’m supposed to be the one who keeps them safe. That’s my job, and instead, I’m sitting here while some asshole from twenty-five years ago makes me feel like I failed before I even knew there was a fight coming.”
Piston looks up at me then. There’s no anger in his eyes right now.
Just exhaustion and something close to fear.
“I don’t know how to fix this, Rook. I don’t know how to protect them from a man who’s already spent decades planning how to hurt me.
And I don’t know how to look my daughter in the eye and tell her that the reason she’s not safe is because of something I did twenty-five years ago. ”
He drains the rest of his glass and sets it down on the desk. “I’m tired,” he admits, voice low. “I’m so fucking tired of carrying this shit.”
I don’t say anything right away. I just sit there with him, the weight of his words settling between us.
For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel like we’re on opposite sides of a war. It just feels like two men who used to trust each other, sitting in a room with too much history and too many ghosts.
I take another slow sip of scotch and set my glass down. “Then we carry it together,” I say quietly. “Until it’s over.”
Piston doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t tell me to leave either.