Red nods. “I hacked into some of his off-the-books financials. Grant’s been taking massive bribes from both organizations, laundering money through shell companies, even setting up offshore accounts.”
“Jesus,” Allura mutters from the speaker. “How deep does this shit go?”
Red taps the screen again, bringing up hidden security feeds. My eyes narrow as grainy footage pops up of Reyes standing next to a group of heavily armed men. They’re inside the mansion, surrounded by crates that sure as hell aren’t filled with birthday presents.
Red zooms in, pulling up details. “That’s a fresh shipment. Guns, military-grade. Cartel supplied, Russian funded. The shipment came in two days ago and is set to move out in the next forty-eight hours.”
I exhale slowly, my heart pounding with pure, unfiltered rage. “So, Reyes isn’t just hiding, he’s working. He’s helping Grant keep this whole operation running.”
Derange cracks his knuckles. “Then we shut it the fuck down.”
Red grins darkly. “That’s the plan.”
I stare at the mansion’s layout, memorizing every detail. “Tell me how we get in.”
Red pulls up another blueprint, overlaying the security grid. “Front gate? Suicide. It’s rigged with motion sensors, cameras, and armed guards. The main road is a kill box. But,” he clicks again, zooming in on an underground service tunnel.
“What’s that?” Bones asks.
“A backdoor,” Red says. “It’s a private access tunnel. Originally built for smuggling in high-profile guests discreetly. Now, it’s being used to move shipments without attracting attention.”
Capone’s lips curl. “Then that’s our way in.”
Red nods. “The tunnel leads directly into the lower level of the estate for storage and transport. Security is lighter down there, but once we’re inside, it’s a fucking maze.”
I straighten, already feeling the familiar pull of battle settling into my bones. “We go in fast. We hit hard with no survivors.”
Calypso’s voice comes across the speaker. I can hear a smirk in her tone. “Now you’re talking my language.”
Red leans back in his chair. “We’re gonna need backup for this.”
I already know what he’s getting at. “Royal Harlots.”
Capone nods. “Allura, do you and your ladies want in on this? Grant’s been running women through his operation. That makes this personal.”
Allura grits out, “Damn right it does. We’ll be there in fifteen.” She hangs up the phone.
Capone slams his gavel on the table. “Get ready for another war, boys.”
I take one last look at the screen. Reyes, Grant, and the monsters they do business with. They have no fucking idea what’s coming for them. And when we’re done, there won’t be anything left to bury.
The clubhouse is buzzing with energy, but it’s not the usual kind that comes with booze, women, and a night of celebrating. No, this is different. This is war prep.
Weapons are checked, ammo counted, and engines roar outside as more bikes pull in. The smell of oil, gunpowder, and leather hangs heavy in the air, mixing with something more primal, vengeance.
Reyes and Grant thought they could fuck with us, that they could come after what’s mine and walk away breathing. They were fucking wrong.
I tighten my grip on my gun, rolling my shoulders as I watch my brothers move around me. The Royal Bastards are ready to burn the city down if that’s what it takes to end this. And now, we’ve got the Royal Harlots at our backs.
I glance across the room at Allura, the Prez of the Harlots. She’s barking orders, making sure her women are armed and ready. If Reyes thought these women were just a bunch of pretty faces who played bikers on the weekends, he’s in for a rude fucking awakening.
And then there’s Calypso, my soon-to-be Ol’ Lady, and I’m her Shield. Her protector when she needs me, her biggest supporter when she doesn’t.
She’s standing at the bar, her expression stone-cold, hands resting protectively over her swollen belly. My woman. My world. She shouldn’t even be here, not this far along. But there’s no keeping her away, not when someone is coming after her family.
I stalk over to her, reaching out to cup her chin, tilting her face up to mine. “You stay back, Lyp,” I say, my voice low but firm. “Let us handle this.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m not sitting this one out.”
