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“Juan’s planning to torch the clubhouse,” Isabella says, her face falling. “In three days, your clubhouse will be ashes.”

The words hit me like a two-by-four to the gut. My pulse kicks up a notch, adrenaline flooding my system even as my brain kicks into overdrive. The threat is real, imminent. Juan’s not fucking around. Apparently, blowing up the first clubhouse wasn’t enough for him. Now he wants to do it again.

“Tank,” I bark out without taking my eyes off Isabella, “text Vapor. We need an emergency Church meeting, tonight.” The urgency in my voice leaves no room for questions.

“On it,” Tank says, his expression grim. He pulls out his phone, fingers working swiftly over the screen. Vicki stands close to him, her presence a silent show of solidarity. He looks up from his phone. “Vapor’s setting it up. Says to head to his place ASAP.”

“Good,” I reply, my mind already strategizing, mapping out potential defenses. If Juan thinks he can fuck with us for the second time, he’s in for a rude awakening. I’m not going to let him get away with it. Not on my watch. This is war, and I’ll be damned if we don’t come out swinging.

“Hang on, he’s calling me. Yeah, I’m here. No, she can’t…” Tank walks away from us toward the bayou. His shadow stretches out on the cracked asphalt as he turns his back, phone pressed to his ear.

Vicki glances at me, her green eyes flickering with concern before she follows him. When she reaches his side, her hand brushes against his back, a silent vow of support. I can’t hear what Vapor’s saying to Tank, but it’s something they don’t want Isabella to hear. I wonder if they still think she’s the enemy or that this is some kind of trap.

“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t trust that what you’re telling me is true?” I ask her.

“Why would I lie?” She wraps her arms around her body and rubs one of her shoulders. Her eyes keep darting around, like she expects someone to come bounding out of the bushes at any moment.

“Are you okay,” I ask, my voice low so the others won’t hear me.

“I think so,” she whispers.

The neon sign of Voodoo casts an otherworldly hue on her face, sharpening the edges of worry that crease her brow. Her slender form is poised for flight, but it’s the haunted look in her blue eyes that tightens my chest. The usual brazen confidence in her eyes is gone. For the first time since I met her, she looks vulnerable, and all I want to do is protect her.

“I’ll be okay. Besides, this isn’t about me anyway,” she adds, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the parking lot, to a far-off place filled with shadows and threats.

“Damn straight it’s about you,” I counter, stepping closer. The air between us is charged, crackling with more than the sticky heat of the New Orleans night. “If Juan finds out you came to us, he’s not just coming for the club—he’s coming for you too.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and a flicker of fear dances in their depths. She shakes her head slightly, as if trying to deny the truth of her predicament.

“I can handle it,” she insists, but there’s a tremor in her voice that belies her bravado.

I shake my head, frustration knotting my insides. “Not alone, you can’t. Where do you live?”

“On the family compound.”

“Fuck! You can’t go back there.”

“I have to. If I don’t, he’ll know I ratted him out.”

“He might find out anyway. Going back there isn’t safe. Stay with me.” The words are out before I can stop them, fueled by something primal within me that demands I protect her.

“Staying with you wouldn’t do anything other than paint an even bigger target on your back,” she says sharply. “What do you think he’d do if he found out I was staying with someone from Underground Vengeance?”

“He’d probably come at us even harder than before.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Let him come,” I growl, the thought of her being anywhere but under my watch sparking a fury deep in my gut. “I’ve got enough bullets for him and his entire crew. I owe them anyway. He blew up our other clubhouse.”

“I know. He told me. Why does he have a vendetta against you?”

“Because we’re trying to stop him from running his business. He enslaves people under the guise of helping them, then pimps them out in his brothels. The drug problem in NOLA has gotten ten times worse since he took over as the local cartel leader. We’re sick of his shit. We’ve already managed to stop some of the trafficking, but that put a huge target on us. He wants us all dead. Alligator chow. And he’s not going to stop until either we’re six-feet-under, or he is.”

Isabella’s lips part, but no sound comes out.

“Please, Bella,” I push, softer this time. “Stay with me. Let me help you the same way you’re helping us.”

She studies me intently. I need her to trust that I’ll keep her safe, that together we can face her brother and win. Whatever she’s looking for in my face, she doesn’t seem to see it.