But there’s no time for that now. I square my shoulders. There’s war on the horizon, and every man here has a role to play. Mine is clear—I must protect, survive, and retaliate.
“Highway!” a voice calls, pulling me back to the present. Eyes on me, waiting.
“Yeah?” I say, my voice steady.
Time to plan our next move.
Time to show them who the Royal Bastards really are.
Leather creaks as I pivot, and the clubhouse feels alive. Feral is beside me, a shadow with rage in his eyes, muscles coiled tight. He jerks his head, and without a word, I follow him through the crowd, each step heavy with purpose.
We push open the door to the meeting room. Creed is at the table, his presence commanding silence. The leaders of our chapter flank him, faces grim. This is the inner sanctum where decisions are life or death.
“Betrayal.” The word slams into the room from Creed’s lips. “The Diablo Cartel. They’ve turned on us.”
A collective growl ripples through the room, a sound that’s all fury and no fear. My fists clench at my sides.
“Camilla,” Feral spits the name like poison. “I’ll tear her heart out. Make her regret the day she crossed the Royal Bastards.”
“Ease up, brother.” Creed’s voice is calm but commanding.His gaze locks with Feral’s. “That rage? Bottle it. We need cool heads, not just brute force. We need everyone we can count on to come out of this alive.”
“Everyone?” I say, my voice low but cutting clear. “Even the Khans?”
“Every damn one of them.” Creed’s nod is slow and deliberate. “We’re calling in every marker, every favor owed. This storm? We weather it together.”
“United,” someone mutters.
It’s a pledge, a vow spoken in the language of the outlaw.
“United,” the rest of us echo.
The Royal Bastards don’t bend.
We sure as hell don’t break.
Creed’s voice slices through the murmurs, his eyes cold and calculating. “We hit them hard and hit them fast.”
I nod, feeling that familiar surge of adrenaline—the rush that comes before the chaos. Every pair of eyes is fixed on Creed.
“Tonight,” he says, and his words hang heavy, loaded. “We take the fight to them before they even smell the blood in the water.”
A collective growl of approval ripples through us. We’re predators, not prey. We set the traps but don’t fall into them.
“Winchester,” Creed’s gaze cuts to where the man sits to his right. “We need to know the layout of the Crimson Wheelers’ compound.”
“Got it, Prez.” Winchester’s reply is a low rumble. “I’ve had it for a while.”
“Good.” Creed’s lips twist into a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s remind the Wheelers who they’re dealing with. And let the Diablo Cartel hear about it.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, knuckles itching for a fight. We’re a brotherhood bound by blood and honor.
Betray us?
Hell hath no fury like the Royal Bastards scorned.
Creed’s words echo in my head. Tonight, the streets will whisper our story—a tale of loyalty, retribution, and the fierce bond of the Royal Bastards MC.
ChapterFourteen
