Page 91 of Ruger's Rage
Before she can elaborate, the sound of a motorcycle approaching draws our attention.
We all tense, moving to the window to see Rookie pull in, his face grim as he dismounts.
Ellie murmurs, already moving toward the door. "Something's wrong,"
We follow her outside, anxiety building with each step.
The prospect's eyes find us immediately. "Any word?"
"Nothing," I confirm. "What's happened?"
He runs a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "I was supposed to meet them at the checkpoint, but they never showed. Tried calling—no answer."
Ice forms in my gut. "How long ago?"
"Forty minutes. I circled back to check if they returned here."
Sarah’s voice is calm, much calmer than how I feel right now. "Could they have changed routes?"
"Maybe." Rookie doesn't sound convinced. "But Prez was clear about checking in. Something's not right."
As if summoned by our fears, another motorcycle roars up the drive—this time it's Bloodhound, furious as ever.
He kills the engine, eyes scanning our gathered faces. "We've been played."
Ellie’s the first to speak. "What do you mean?"
"Warehouse was empty. No Striker, but the Vultures showed. Striker left a fuckin’ note."
I barely recognize my own voice. "What did it say?"
Bloodhound's eyes meet mine, "'Goodbye, nephew. By the time you read this, I'll have what I came for.'"
Reality crashes through me like a wave. "Marco's coming here."
"Already on his way," Bloodhound confirms. "Viper was the one to warn us—it seems Striker's been playing both sides longer than we thought. They've been planning this from the beginning. I don’t think he was ever going to be there."
"A diversion," Sarah realizes. "Send the men to the warehouse while they hit the compound."
"Where are the others?" Ellie asks, fear threading her voice. "Where's Ryan?"
"Scattered. We can’t get a signal—someone's jamming them. I broke off to warn you while Ounce and the others try to circle back."
A distant rumble of engines sounds from beyond the trees—too many to be returning brothers.
"Get inside," Bloodhound orders. "Rookie, rally the prospects. Sarah, get the women to safety."
"There's only four prospects here," Rookie points out. "Not enough to hold them off if it's a full crew coming."
Sarah straightens, decision made. "Bloodhound, buy us some time. Five minutes. That's all we need."
He nods, like he knows exactly what she’s doing. "Be careful."
"What's happening?" Kinsey asks as Sarah herds us back toward the clubhouse.
"We're leaving," Sarah says simply, guiding us not toward Ruger's apartment but toward the main building.
"Leaving? How?" I demand. "They'll have the roads blocked."
