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Mickey texted him, so he already knew what was going on.

We played it cool, though, and just sat there and shot the shit like it was just a random Tuesday morning or something.

I don’t know how I did it, but I smoked that whole cigarette and hated every second.

I think I’m finally cured of my nicotine addiction.

I had to force myself to keep taking puff after puff. It was the worst torture of my life .

When I got back inside the club, Mickey was already running shit down.

He had Flint on cameras and looking at all the feeds.

We never even thought to check our own place when we came back.

And sure the fuck enough, some asshole driving a PT Cruiser came up and pulled someone out of the back, then carried them into Viv’s place before going back out again and ditching his car.

A car that I never would have looked twice at before all of this.

He jogged back as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

And why would he? When we were looking at the warehouse and talking to everyone, he was safe to do as he pleased.

Every single brother was with me. We had no one running shit here. It was fucking perfect.

And it would have worked if not for the water getting turned on three days early. We had the valves shut off, but the utility company had a guy out yesterday messing with someone else’s plumbing down the street, and he chose to turn this one on, too, to save himself a trip out later in the week.

Fucking lucky break is what it is.

“How the hell are we going to go in now? He probably has the windows booby-trapped or some shit too,” Lucky grumbles.

The rest of the boys throw out ideas, but I don’t listen as I lean over my knees and put my forearms on my legs.

Mickey’s sitting next to me and nudges me with his knee. “What’re you thinking?”

The room quiets down as I speak. Never knew I had that kind of power before, the type where everyone wants to hear what I have to say. And I don’t think it’s just because of a title on the vest or who we need to rescue .

I look around the room and see a group of men that, despite everything, I’ve come to respect. And in turn, they respect me. I walked in with a fake presidency title, but somehow I’ve earned the right to be the one to call the shots in this house. And I’m not about to take it for granted.

“We blow it up.”

“How?” This from Pike. He looks confused, just like the rest of them.

“If we blow the door, we could hurt Menace,” another calls out, and I nod. I like that they’re thinking about my woman and want to keep her safe.

“That’s true,” I say. I can feel the weight of our situation. The heaviness is like a dense fog over the entire club.

No one wants to let Viv get hurt. We’ve got no clue if she’s even alive, but if he’s still in there, we have to have hope that she’s still breathing too.

But it isn’t only about Viv. It’s about the pride of this club. About the ability to stand against an enemy who took one brother and almost another from us. We want retribution. We want justice.

We want blood.

“I didn’t say anything about going in the front door.”

Lucky looks at me, then the rest of the boys, then back at me. “You want to go in through the back or something?” Poor guy scratches his head in confusion.

I pity the man, but honestly, I doubt this idea is something 99 percent of the human population would come up with.

Then again, I’ve always been a one-percenter.

I shake my head.

“Then where?” he asks.

“The floor.”

“How would we do that?” Mickey asks.

“We drill a hole in the floor and get a camera in to see what’s going on. Then I’ll set a charge for a selected area. Whether it pulls Viv or whoever this guy is down to us, either way, we separate the two. We have enough guys in the garage to grab one or the other.”

The boys look at each other, but I see a few nods.

My girl is going to be pissed. I’m going to move her things around to make it work, but I think she’ll thank me when I save her.

Well, eventually. Pretty sure I’m going to get punched in the face, but I think it’ll be worth it.

They always say “Love is pain.” Or is it “Life is pain, and you just get used to it”?

Either way, I’m getting my girl, and if she hates me for it, she does. I’ll live with it knowing she’s alive, but I won’t live knowing she’s dead and I didn’t stop it.

Lucky stands, stretches his neck, and asks, “Where do we keep the C-4?”

I grin for the first time in what feels like days as every single brother also stands. They’re all backing me and my crazy idea.

Once the plan is made, the boys make quick work of getting me what I need.

I’m not even surprised they have everything.

This is a Hounds MC, after all. We come prepared for everything, from a year’s supply of condoms to enough explosives to take out a few small buildings.

Thankfully, I only need enough to put a dent in one floor. Nothing more.

The worst part of the plan is that we all agree it has to happen at night.

We don’t give a shit about the neighbors seeing, but having the cover of darkness helps.

We even get Flint to flicker the streetlights enough that they go out each time a group of three makes it from the club to her garage.

We’re sticking to only nine in the building, but we’ve got plenty waiting outside in different positions.

They’ve been making their way into the place for hours, making it all look as casual as possible in case the guy has eyes on us somehow.

With the nine of us inside, we work as quietly as mice, moving all Viv’s metal equipment to the side. Most of it was bolted down, so we had to get creative by prying it up. She’s going to be mad as a hornet for sure, but I keep telling myself it’ll be worth it.

Once we have the equipment out of the way, Mickey drills a hole in the corner that he knows will have the most opening to her apartment and is right next to a stud, so it should be hidden a bit when we slide the scope through.

Radar mans the video as Mickey runs the endoscope camera through the hole. It’s not high-tech enough that we can see all the details—it’s meant for looking under a car’s engine—but we can get an image.

“There.” I point to the screen and see a lowered railed bed in the middle of the floor with cuffs. From the angle, I can’t see who’s on it, but it only takes one guess.

“Where’s the guy?” Grim asks over my shoulder as we watch the video while Mickey moves the camera in a slow rotation.

“Stop,” I whisper when I see him. He’s toward the back of the apartment, and it looks like a tripod is set up by the rear window. He’s watching us like we thought. But he doesn’t seem to be on to what we’re doing .

I look at the camera again, then the room, and do some basic math. Then I go to my bag, pull out the C-4, and start prepping the ceiling. No one helps me. Not that they can’t, but they know this is my thing. The reason I’m called Domino.

I make things fall down. It’s what I’m good at.