Page 8 of Property of Anchor
“Doc confirmed that,” I said.“Dead six to ten hours.Carving was postmortem.This was deliberate.”
“You want a recon sweep?”Piney asked.“I’ll take a boat around the island.Check for fresh tracks.”
“Do it.Quietly.”
“What if it’s a warning?”Bob said.“For the club?For you?”
“Then we take it seriously,” Skull said, voice sharp.“And we hit back twice as hard.”
Cross cleared his throat.“We should be careful.Panic leads to mistakes.We don’t even know who this guy is yet.”
“You think we wait?”Post asked.
“I think we investigate.Hard.But we don’t strike blind.”
I leaned forward.“This club doesn’t roll over,” I said.“We’re not afraid of ghosts.Wemakeghosts.”
The table fell silent.
Everyone understood what that meant.
“Nobody outside this room hears about the body,” I said.“Not until we have answers.Not until we know who we’re hunting.”
Skull nodded, his jaw tense.
“We find out who this bastard was.Who dumped him.And why he wore our name carved into his skin,” I stated.
“And then?”Prime asked.
I looked down at the table, and my fingers curled into fists.“Then we show them what happens when you mess with the Kings of Anarchy.”
Even the walls seemed to hum with silence after that.
And deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.
Chapter Five
Pearl
The truck rattled as I drove down the long stretch of backroad that led to Skull Island.Every bump and crack in the pavement jolted up through the seat and into my spine, but I didn’t dare complain.This was the first solid job we’d had in over a month, and we needed it.Badly.
Dad was counting on me.Hell, the whole business was.And even though I’d grumbled a little when he told me where the job was, I’d thrown my supplies in the back, grabbed my sketch pad, and pointed the truck toward the lake this morning.
“Just a repaint,” he’d said that morning, sipping his coffee like it wasn’t a big deal.“Inside and out.Should be enough to keep us afloat through the fall.”
Haunted house.Skull Island.Not exactly a standard Monday morning gig.
Now here I was, windows cracked as lake air seeped in, and the tall trees leaned overhead like they knew something I didn’t.The forest was thicker out here.The sort of place where you could get lost if you weren’t careful, or maybe never found at all.
The bridge came into view.It rose up in a gentle arc over the water.My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I crossed it.On one side of the bridge: summer lake vibes.Fishermen in faded hats.Canoes gliding through sunlit ripples.
But the moment I passed the halfway point, the energy shifted.
The trees grew denser.Shadows stretched longer.The air chilled, even though the sun was high.
They were good at this.
Really good.
