Chapter 9 #3
"Not a threat. A promise." He sounds pleased with himself, like he's enjoying this.
"I've been watching you, Shadow. Followed you all the way from Texas.
Watched you get married in that tacky chapel.
Watched you walk into that tattoo shop today.
You really thought you could hide? In Vegas, of all places? "
My blood runs cold. He's been watching us this whole time. Every move we've made.
"You're in Reapers Rejects territory. Uninvited. That's a death sentence."
"Is it?" He's unconcerned. Arrogant. "Then come find me. I'm close. Real close. Close enough that I watched your wife walk out of that tattoo shop with fresh ink. Close enough to smell her shampoo when she walks by."
My vision goes red. "You stay the fuck away from her."
"Or what? You'll kill me?" Flint laughs. "I'm counting on you trying, enforcer. Because when you do, when you come at me, that's when I take what's mine. Your wife. My brother's property."
"She's not property. She's a person. My wife."
"Semantics." I can hear the smile in his voice. "But if you want to settle this like men, I'll give you the chance. Tomorrow night. Neutral ground outside city limits. I'll text you the location."
I grip the phone tighter. "Just you and me?"
"Bring whoever you want. Reapers Rejects. Your new brothers. Hell, bring an army if it makes you feel better. Doesn't matter. Because one way or another, Grace is coming home with me."
"Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged too." His laugh is cold, cruel. "Enjoy your last night with her, Shadow. Make it count. Because after tomorrow, she'll be in a cage where she belongs. Somewhere you can't touch her. Somewhere you can't save her."
A cage.
The word hits Grace like a punch to the gut.
Her face goes white, her hand flies to her mouth.
"See you tomorrow, enforcer," Flint says. "Don't keep me waiting."
Click.
Grace is shaking, trembling so hard I can feel it from here.
I pull her into my arms, careful of both our fresh tattoos, and she buries her face against my chest.
"He knows where we are," she whispers. "He's been watching us. He saw us get married. He saw us get the tattoos. He's been there the whole time."
"Yeah." My voice is hard. Cold. The enforcer voice I haven't used since getting kicked out of Shotgun Saints. "Which means tomorrow, I'm ending this."
I tip her face up, make her look at me.
"He's not putting you in a cage. He's not touching you. He's not getting within ten feet of you." My voice is absolute. Final. "Tomorrow, Flint dies. I promise you that."
"Shadow—"
"No." I'm not backing down on this. "He threatened you. Called you directly to terrorize you. Talked about caging you like an animal. Made it personal. Tomorrow, he pays for that with his life."
Grace's eyes are wet, scared. "What if something happens to you?"
"It won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." I cup her face in my hands. "Because I'm the best enforcer Shotgun Saints ever had. And now I'm fighting for you. For my wife. Flint doesn't stand a chance."
I call Damon immediately.
Ten minutes later, we're back at the clubhouse.
Emergency meeting. All hands.
The main room is packed—Reapers Rejects brothers filling every available seat, standing along the walls.
Damon's at the head of the dining room table, Dixon beside him. Shiver's there too, arms crossed, expression dark.
"Flint called Grace," I say without waiting for anyone to speak. "He's here. In Vegas. Been tailing us since we left Texas."
Damon's expression goes thunderous. "He called her? Directly?"
"Yeah. Knew where we were staying. Knew we got married. Knew we got tattooed today. He's been watching us this whole time."
"Son of a bitch." Damon slams his hand on the table hard enough to make the beer bottles jump. "He's on our turf without permission, without announcement, without respect. That's not just disrespectful—that's an act of war."
Dixon leans forward, all business. "How many Copperhead Kings are with him? Did he give any indication?"
"Don't know. But he's confident. Too confident for someone operating alone in hostile territory."
Shiver's jaw is tight, his hands curled into fists. "Could be a trap. Lure you out to this meet, ambush you, take Grace while you're bleeding out."
"Don't care." My voice is flat. "He threatened Grace. Talked about putting her in a cage. Terrorized her over the phone. He dies tomorrow, trap or not."
Damon holds up a hand. "If we're doing this, we do it smart. No cowboy shit. We plan this out, we have contingencies, and we make damn sure our brothers come home."
We spend the next twenty minutes planning.
Numbers, positions, backup plans.
Who rides, who stays back to guard Grace, what weapons we bring.
Then Damon says something that stops me cold.
"You should call Phantom. Before tomorrow."
I go still. "Why?"
"Because if you die tomorrow, Grace is left alone.
" Damon's voice is serious, not backing down.
"No club protection. No husband. Just a woman with a fifty-thousand-dollar bounty on her head and a father who's pissed at her.
Think about it, Shadow. You're gone. My club will do what we can, but at the end of the day she has a life back in Texas.
The Shotgun Saints won't protect her if their Prez is still furious, even if she is one of his daughters. She'd be completely alone."
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the chest.
I hadn't thought of that.
Hadn't considered what happens to Grace if I don't make it back from tomorrow's meet.
"I'll call Phantom myself if you won't," Damon continues. "Explain the situation. See if he'll talk to you. Even if he doesn't forgive you, even if he never lets you back in the club, he'll protect Grace. She's his daughter."
Grace touches my arm, her fingers gentle. "Let him call. Please. I want to talk to my dad anyway."
I look at her. See the hope in her eyes. The fear.
The desperate need to hear her father's voice, to know he still loves her despite everything.
"All right," I say finally. "Make the call."
Shiver pulls out his phone. "I'll do it. He'll answer for me. Might not answer for Damon—no offense."
"None taken," Damon says.
We all gather around as Shiver dials.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.
Every Reapers Rejects brother in here knows what this call means.
What's riding on it.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.
"Shiver."
Phantom's voice.
Rough, familiar, carrying the weight of command I remember so well.
And fuck if it doesn't hit me harder than I expected.
I haven't heard his voice since he kicked me out.
Since he told me I was done, finished, no longer a brother.
"Dad," Shiver says, putting the phone on speaker so we can all hear. "We got a situation."
"What kind of situation?" Phantom's voice is cautious. Guarded. He knows something's wrong.
"Copperhead Kings followed Shadow, Banshee, and Grace to Vegas. Flint's been watching them. Called Grace directly today. Threatened to cage her like an animal. There's a meet scheduled for tomorrow night. Neutral ground outside the city."
Silence on the line.
Long enough that I think maybe the call dropped.
Then Phantom's voice, tight with fury, "He threatened my daughter?"
"Yeah."
"What exactly did he say?"
Shiver glances at me.
I step forward, closer to the phone.
"He said he's putting her in a cage," I say, my voice hard. "Said she belongs to his family because of the money Bronco paid. Said the marriage and the tattoos don't change anything."
When Phantom speaks again, his voice is different. Colder. More controlled.
"You married her," Phantom says. It's not a question.
"Yes."
"For real. Not just the lie you told at the meet."
"For real. Yesterday. Elvis officiant in Vegas. Shiver and Banshee were there. It's legal. Official."
"And now Copperhead Kings are coming for her."
"I'm handling it," I say, even though I know how that's going to land.
"The hell you are." Phantom's voice is pure steel. Pure command. The voice of a man who's been running a club for over thirty years and doesn't tolerate bullshit. "Not alone. Where's the meet?"
"Tomorrow night. Outside Vegas. Neutral ground. Flint's choice of location, he'll text me the details."
"Then I'm coming to Vegas."
My heart stops. "What?"
"You think I'm letting my daughter face Copperhead Kings without me?
" Phantom's anger is palpable even through the phone line.
"You married her without my blessing. Lied to my face at that meet with Copperhead Kings.
Got yourself kicked out of my club. Made me look like a fool in front of another Prez.
But she's still my daughter. She'll always be my daughter.
And no one—no one—threatens her. Especially not some punk enforcer from Houston who thinks he can cage my little girl like an animal. "
Grace's eyes fill with tears.
She covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to sob.
"Prez—" I start, but I don't know what to say. Don't know how to respond to this.
"I'm bringing Thunder, Blaze, and Blight. Maybe Rogue if he can get away. We'll be there by tomorrow afternoon. Late afternoon, depending on traffic." He pauses, and his voice drops lower, more dangerous. "And Shadow?"
"Yeah?"
"We're gonna have words when this is over. You and me. About what you did. About the lies. About marrying Grace without talking to me first. About all of it."
"I know."
"But first, we handle the Copperhead Kings. We end this threat to my daughter. We make sure Flint never gets the chance to put his hands on her." Another pause. "Then we handle our business. You and me."
"Yes, sir."
The line goes quiet for a moment.
Then Phantom's voice softens, just slightly: "Grace, baby, you there?"
Grace's voice breaks when she answers. "I'm here, Daddy."
"You okay? Really okay?"
"Yeah. I'm okay. Shadow's taking care of me. Keeping me safe."
"Good." Phantom's voice is gentle now, the voice of a father instead of a Prez. "I love you, baby girl. You know that, right? No matter what, I love you."
"I love you too, Dad." Grace is crying now, tears streaming down her face.
"I'll see you tomorrow. And Grace?"
"Yeah?"
"Stay close to Shadow until I get there. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't take any chances. Promise me."
"I promise."
"Good girl." Phantom's voice hardens again. "Shiver, you keep an eye on her too. Both of you watch her. If anything happens before I get there—"
"Nothing's going to happen," Shiver says. "We've got eyes on her 24/7."
"Good. I'll call when we're an hour out." Phantom pauses one more time. "Shadow, you still there?"
"Yeah."
"Don't do anything stupid before I arrive. You hear me? No cowboy shit. No running off to confront Flint alone. You wait for backup."
"I hear you."
"Good."
The line goes dead.
The room is silent for a long moment.
Then Damon lets out a low whistle.
"Well. Looks like you got your reconciliation after all."
"He's still pissed," I say, stating the obvious.
"Yeah. But he's coming. That's what matters." Damon stands, looks around at his brothers. "Shotgun Saints and Reapers Rejects riding together tomorrow. This is gonna be one hell of a show."
Dixon grins, dark and dangerous. "Flint's fucked. He just doesn't know it yet."
Shiver's grinning too. "Told you, Shadow. Dad loves Grace more than he hates what you did."
Maybe.
Or maybe he just hates the Copperhead Kings more.
Or maybe he's a father first, Prez second.
Either way, tomorrow we ride together.
Shotgun Saints and Reapers Rejects.
Brothers from different clubs, united for one purpose.
Protecting Grace.
And Flint's not walking away from this.
None of them are.
That night, lying in the trailer with Grace in my arms, I stare at the ceiling.
The bandage on my ribs is uncomfortable, the fresh tattoo underneath tender and sore.
Grace shifts beside me, careful of her own fresh ink, and I pull her closer.
Tomorrow, everything changes.
Either I kill Flint and end this nightmare, or I die trying.
But Grace will be safe.
Phantom will make sure of it.
Even if he hates me, even if he never forgives me, even if I'm never allowed back in Shotgun Saints—he'll protect his daughter.
That's what matters.
"You scared?" Grace whispers into the darkness.
"No."
"Liar."
I smile despite everything. "Maybe a little."
"My dad's coming."
"Yeah."
"He's going to yell at you. Probably hit you."
"Probably."
"But he's coming." Her voice breaks, thick with emotion. "He's choosing me. Even though everything we did—the marriage, the lies, all of it—he's choosing me."
"He was always going to, darlin'. You're his daughter. That comes before anything else. Even his pride. Even his anger."
She's quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on my chest, careful to avoid the bandaged area. "Promise me you'll come back tomorrow."
"I promise."
"Shadow—"
I roll to face her, cupping her cheek in my hand. "I'm coming back. We just got married. Just got these tattoos with each other's names. Just started our life together. I'm not leaving you now. Not ever."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
I kiss her, slow and deep, trying to memorize this moment.
The way she tastes.
The way she feels in my arms.
The way her breath catches when I touch her just right.
My wife. In my arms. Safe for now.
Tomorrow, I make sure it stays that way.
Tomorrow, Flint dies.
And maybe, just maybe, I start fixing things with Phantom.
But tonight?
Tonight is ours.
Grace falls asleep first, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing against mine despite the fear, despite everything.
I stay awake longer, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest, my hand resting protectively over the bandage on her ribs where my name is permanently marked.
Tomorrow's going to be brutal. Violent. Bloody.
But tonight, I hold my wife and count every heartbeat as a gift.
And I swear to whatever god might be listening that I'll come back to her.
I'll kill every Copperhead King that stands between us if I have to.
But I'll come back.