“Creed,” I venture once the others are busy at work. “You think the Diablos are behind this?”
His eyes catch mine in the dim light, hard as flint. For a heartbeat, he’s silent, considering, then gives a single, curt nod. No words, but it’s all the confirmation I need.
“Shit.” The curse is out before I can stop it.
Creed stands there, a solitary figure against the darkness, staring into the night as if he could see right into the heart of our troubles.
“Let’s finish here,” he says after a moment, his voice rough with unspoken thoughts. “We’ll talk back at the clubhouse.”
“Roger that.” I turn back to the task at hand, but my mind is already racing ahead, thinking of what this means for us, for the Royal Bastards.
If the Diablos are moving against us…
Well, that’s a storm we might not weather.
But for now, we clean.
We make it like we were never here.
And we brace for what’s coming next.
***
Gravel crunches underfoot as I drag the last of the Crimson Wheelers to the pit we’ve dug out back. Sweat beads on my brow, mixing with the grime and blood spatters—the scent is metallic. My breath comes in sharp pulls.
“Dump him,” Reaper hisses from the edge.
I heave the lifeless body into the dark hole, not bothering to look where it lands. There’s no ceremony here, just cold necessity. I wipe my hands on my jeans, feeling the coarse fabric scrape against my skin. The air is heavy with unspoken tension.
“Think we’re clear?” Justice’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp as his knife.
“Yeah,” I grunt, knowing full well the mess we’re in now isn’t just about tonight—it’s about what happens when dawn breaks.
“Diablos won’t take this lying down,” Creed mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
No one argues that point.
“Creed,” I say, stepping closer. “Are we ready for what they bring?”
“Have to be,” he replies, resolve hardening his features. “No other choice.”
The moon hangs low, casting elongated shadows across the dirt. I glance around at my brothers, their faces set, minds already turning to defense, retribution, and survival.
And then there’s Lyric. Her face flashes in my mind, innocent and unaware of how close the danger lurks. A pang of something fierce hits me.
Is it protection?
Fear?
Love?
I shove it down deep.
I can’t afford that kind of distraction now, but it’s there, smoldering like embers waiting to ignite.
“Highway.” Creed’s gaze locks onto mine, pulling me back. “You good?”
“Always,” I lie.
