Chapter Twelve
The Church doors had never opened for anyone like her.
Diana understood that the moment she stepped inside, feeling the weight of tradition and brotherhood pressing against her skin. The room was smaller than she'd expected—a heavy wooden table surrounded by chairs, club banners on the walls, the smell of leather and smoke baked into every surface.
And men. So many men, all of them watching her with expressions ranging from curiosity to suspicion to carefully guarded respect.
Vice's hand found the small of her back, guiding her forward. "She's got intel we need. Diana, tell them what you told me."
Titan sat at the head of the table, massive and still, his eyes missing nothing. "Take a seat, Miss Marsh. And start from the beginning."
Diana sat in the chair Vice pulled out for her—right beside his own, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The claiming gesture wasn't lost on anyone in the room.
She took a breath and began.
"The sabotage started three weeks before Vice found me.
Burst pipes, electrical failures, anonymous complaints to the licensing board.
At first I thought it was bad luck—old building, things break.
" She pulled out the folder she'd been assembling, the one with copies of everything she and Vice had pieced together. "Then I started keeping records."
She spread the documents across the table. Dates and times. Photographs of the damage. Copies of the complaints, each one filed within days of the previous one being resolved.
"The pattern is systematic. Too precise to be coincidence." Diana pointed to a timeline she'd drawn. "Every time I resolved one problem, another appeared within forty-eight hours. Someone was watching. Waiting for me to fix things before breaking them again."
"Psychological warfare," Maverick said from across the table. "Wear her down until she quits."
"That was the goal. Phelps confirmed it when he showed up at my daycare—he wanted me to break my lease early, accept a buyout, disappear." Diana's jaw tightened. "He didn't count on me being stubborn."
A few of the brothers exchanged looks. Someone snorted—it might have been Wraith.
"The property records tell the rest of the story.
" Diana pulled out another set of documents.
"Vice helped me trace ownership. My building was sold six months ago to a shell company that traces back to Barron's legitimate holdings.
He bought it specifically to use as a distribution point—quiet neighborhood, good access, residential cover. "
"And your lease was in the way," Titan finished.
"Two years left on it. Legal eviction would have taken too long for whatever timeline he's working." Diana met Titan's eyes without flinching. "So he decided to make me leave voluntarily. When that didn't work, he sent Phelps to threaten me. When that didn't work, he sent Rader to kill me."
"And now he's out of lieutenants." Vice's voice was cold. "Phelps is dead. Rader is dead. Barron's running his operation alone."
"Not alone." Titan pulled out his own documents—surveillance photos, Diana realized, taken over the past few days. "He's got muscle. Brought in outside contractors after we hit back. But his infrastructure's crumbling. His distribution network's been disrupted since Rader went down."
"He's desperate," Anvil said. "Desperate men do stupid things."
"Or dangerous things." Vice leaned forward. "He knows we're coming. He's had three days to prepare since the compound assault."
"Which is why we're not giving him any more time." Titan stood, and the energy in the room shifted. "We know where his main hub is—warehouse district, east side. We've had eyes on it since yesterday. Tonight, we end this."
Diana's heart hammered against her ribs.
This was it. The moment everything had been building toward. These men were going to war for her—for a daycare, for twelve children they'd never met, for a woman who'd stumbled into their world by accident and refused to leave it.
"I want in."
The words were out before she could stop them.
Every head turned. Vice went rigid beside her.
"Absolutely not." His voice left no room for argument.
"I'm not asking to fight." Diana held up her hands. "I know my limits. But I've been inside that building before—Barron uses a commercial property management company, and they gave me a tour when I was first looking for daycare locations. I know the layout."
Silence.
"She's got a point," Maverick said slowly. "Intel on internal layout would be useful."
"She's not going anywhere near that warehouse." Vice's hand closed over her wrist, possessive and unyielding. "This isn't up for discussion."
"Colton—"
"No." He turned to face her fully, his gray eyes blazing. "You have done enough. More than enough. You've given us everything we need to take this bastard down. Now you're going to stay here, safe, where I know nothing can touch you."
Diana wanted to argue. Wanted to push back, demand her place, prove she wasn't the kind of woman who waited while others fought her battles.
But she saw something in Vice's eyes that stopped her.
Fear.
Not for himself. For her.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll stay."
Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. His grip on her wrist loosened, turned gentle, his thumb tracing circles over her pulse point.
"Thank you."
"I still want to help plan." Diana turned back to the table, to Titan, to the brothers watching this exchange with knowing expressions. "I can draw the layout from memory. Entry points, blind spots, whatever I can remember. Let me contribute something."
Titan studied her for a long moment.
"Get her paper and a pencil," he said finally. "Let's see what she's got."
The next two hours passed in a blur of diagrams and debate.
Diana sketched what she remembered of the warehouse—main floor, office spaces, loading docks. Vice filled in details from the club's surveillance, and other brothers added what they knew about Barron's security protocols.
By the time they finished, the table was covered in tactical drawings and the plan had taken shape.
"Breach team hits the main entrance at 2 AM. Maverick, Wraith, you're flanking through the loading dock." Titan pointed to Diana's sketch. "Vice, you and Blaster take the east side. Anvil, you're with me on the west."
"Barron will be in the office," Vice said. "That's where he counts his money and thinks he's safe."
"Then that's where we end it." Titan's voice was final. "No survivors, no witnesses. Barron dies tonight, and his operation dies with him."
Diana should have been horrified. Should have flinched at the casual discussion of killing, the cold calculation of violence.
Instead, she felt something she hadn't expected.
Relief.
These men weren't the monsters she'd always been taught to fear. They were protectors—brutal, yes, and operating outside any law she'd ever known. But they protected. They defended. They stood between innocent people and the darkness that wanted to consume them.
Barron had threatened children. He'd tried to destroy a place where toddlers learned their colors and sang silly songs and believed the world was safe.
He deserved whatever was coming.
"Vote," Titan said, his voice cutting through the room. "All in favor of full assault on Barron's operation, raise your hand."
Every hand in the room went up.
Vice's rose without hesitation, his eyes never leaving Diana's face.
"Unanimous." Titan nodded. "We move at midnight. Gear up, check weapons, get your heads right. This ends tonight."
The brothers began to disperse, the energy in the room shifting from planning to preparation. Diana stood slowly, uncertain what to do now that her part was finished.
Vice was at her side immediately.
"Come with me."
He led her out of Church, through the clubhouse, into the corridor that led to their room. Diana followed in silence, her mind still processing everything she'd witnessed.
Inside their quarters, Vice closed the door and turned to face her.
"You did good in there." His voice was rough. "The brothers respect you."
"I just drew some pictures."
"You gave us an edge. Saved lives, maybe—we'll know where to look, where to avoid." He crossed to her, his hands finding her waist. "You're a part of this now. Whether you meant to be or not."
"I meant to be." Diana looked up at him. "Somewhere along the way, I stopped being a victim and started being... I don't know what. But it feels right."
Vice's expression softened into something tender, unexpected.
"You were never a victim. Not for a single second.
" He pulled her closer. "You fought from day one.
Stood up to Phelps with nothing but a panic button and attitude.
Kept fifteen kids calm while bullets flew.
Walked into Church and gave a tactical briefing to a room full of outlaws like you belonged there. "
"Did I belong there?"
"You belonged at my side." His hands tightened on her waist. "That's all that matters."
Diana rose on her toes and kissed him—soft, slow, pouring everything she felt into the contact. Fear for what was coming. Pride in what they'd built. Love for this man who'd found her drowning and refused to let her sink.
When she pulled back, Vice pressed his forehead to hers.
"I'm coming back," he said. "I need you to believe that."
"I believe you."
"Say it again."
"I believe you're coming back to me." Diana's voice was steady. "And when you do, this will all be over. Little Sprouts will be safe. The kids will be safe. We'll be safe."
Vice kissed her forehead with surprising gentleness, his lips lingering against her skin.
"The daycare will be safe by morning," he promised. "Everything you built, everything those kids need—it'll all be waiting for you."
Diana closed her eyes and held onto him, breathing in leather and gun oil and the scent she'd come to associate with safety.
"Come back to me," she whispered.
"Always."
He held her for another long moment, then pulled away. His expression had shifted—softer giving way to focused, the lover becoming the soldier.
"I have to gear up."
"I know."
"Stay with Jenna. Stay in the main hall. Don't leave the compound for any reason."
"I won't."
Vice kissed her one more time—hard and fierce and claiming—then walked out the door.
Diana stood alone in their room, surrounded by his things and her things and the life they'd started building together, and waited for the war to end.