“I’ll make you a plate and have it upstairs waiting for you.”She goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine before disappearing downstairs.
***
Creed sits at the head of the table, his eyes scanning each of us as we stride in one by one. The tension in his shoulders eases when his gaze lands on Reaper, Fingers, and me. We’re battered but alive.
“Report,” Creed commands, his voice carrying the weight of authority and unspoken concern.
Reaper steps forward, his knuckles once stained red are now scrubbed and clean, much like my own. “Crimson Wheelers’ clubhouse is ashes. Casualties on their side were extensive. We lost no one.”
“Good.” Creed nods once, sharp and decisive. He turns to Fingers, who is already flipping open his laptop, the screen casting a pale glow on his concentrated face. “What have you got?”
Fingers doesn’t look up, his fingers flying over the keys. “It’s just like we thought, Creed. The money trail’s as dirty as they come. Shell companies and backdoor deals. But it’s clear as day, Diablo Cartel’s stink is all over the Crimson Wheelers.”
“Show me,” Creed demands.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching the screen come to life, a damning picture of betrayal and corruption. Numbers and transfers, dates and times, all weaving a narrative we’d suspected but can now confirm.
“Here.” Fingers points at a cluster of transactions. “Payments made days before the rally. And here…” his finger jabs at another series of entries “… more payouts, scheduled for after. They wanted to squeeze us out, take control.”
Creed’s jaw clenches, eyes flinty with the cold rage that promises retribution. “Diablo Cartel is gonna regret crossing theRoyal Bastards.”
A murmur of agreement ripples through the room. We’re more than a club. We are a family. And when one of us is threatened, we all stand ready to ride into hell together.
“Anything else?” Creed’s stare pins Fingers down, demanding every last detail.
“That’s the bulk of it,” Fingers replies, shutting his laptop with a snap. “But I’ll keep digging. There’s always more dirt to find.”
“Good man.” Creed’s praise is rare, making it all the more valuable. He surveys the room again. “We’ll need all the intel we can get. The Diablos have deep pockets, but they just bought themselves a war they won’t walk away from.”
There’s a deadly promise in Creed’s voice. We’re the Royal Bastards, and don’t bow down to anyone.
“Everyone but Highway, Winchester, Reaper, and Justice…out,” Creed commands
The room clears, leaving us four, Creed’s trusted council. He fishes a cell from his cut, thumbing it with a fury I recognize all too well.
“Camilla,” he barks into the speakerphone, the name like a bullet. “Why?”
Her laugh crackles through the silence, high and mocking. “You Royal Bastards are merely pawns,” she sneers. “Pawns in the Diablos’ game.”
Creed’s face reddens, muscles twitching with barely contained rage. “After all these years…” he starts, his voice low and dangerous.
“Your loyalty was your downfall,” Camilla interrupts, her tone icy. “The Crimson Wheelers will finish you soon enough.”
Silence descends for a heartbeat before Creed’s laughter—a cold, mirthless sound—fills the room. “You think you’ve got us cornered?” His gaze meets mine, fiery and resolute. “The Crimson Wheelers are dead. Jacksonville is ours. Neverunderestimate a Royal Bastard.”
The line goes dead.
Silence hangs heavy, charged with the weight of impending war. But as I look around at my brothers, at Creed, who is unyielding, I feel it—the unbreakable bond.
Creed slams his fist down on the table, his jaw set, eyes like flint. He doesn’t skip a beat, punching in another number. His calloused finger presses the final digit, and he switches the phone to speaker for everyone to hear.
“Da.” The voice on the other end cuts through, heavy with a Russian accent.
“Creed for Lev,” he growls into the silence, every word a promise of retribution.
The room is thick with tension and charged with electricity. I can almost taste the violence in the air, feel it pulsing in my veins. We’re standing at the edge of an abyss—war with the Diablos—and we’re about to jump.
“Da?”
