Page 12

Austin

I sat in the dimly lit war room of the clubhouse. The Kings’ inner circle gathered around the heavy wooden table, the weight of recent events squeezing like a vise. Tank, Riot, Jax, and a handful of my most trusted brothers were present, their faces carved from stone.

Laid out before us were stacks of documents, burner phones, and a laptop filled with encrypted messages Jax had been working to crack. Every piece of information we had on Luke, The Ghost, and the recent attacks was in front of us. But the picture it painted was murky—frustratingly so.

“Alright, let’s piece this shit together,” I said, raking a hand through my hair.

Jax leaned forward, fingers flying across his laptop keyboard. The tech expert—ex-military, paranoid as hell, and always five steps ahead—had been digging deeper than I thought possible. Now, he had something.

“Got into Luke’s old burner,” Jax muttered, eyes locked on the screen. “Messages are encrypted, but not unbreakable. This guy wasn’t exactly a hacker.”

I clenched my jaw. Luke had always been reckless, but not an idiot. If he left something behind, it wasn’t because he didn’t know how to erase it. It was because he wanted it to be found.

Jax cracked the encryption, and the messages flooded the screen. The room fell silent as we read through them.

Unknown Sender: You don’t have a choice. Either you do what I say, or your sister pays the price.

Luke: Leave her out of this. I’ll get it done.

Unknown Sender: You have 48 hours. Don’t fuck this up.

My blood ran cold.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled, gripping the table so hard my knuckles hurt from the strain.

Tank let out a slow exhale. “Looks like he wasn’t working for The Ghost willingly.”

I was struggling to process the information. My brother—my blood—had been blackmailed. And judging by the messages, Luke wasn’t just covering his own ass.

Why Was Luke being blackmailed?

“Keep digging,” I ordered, my voice tight. “I need to know exactly what they had on him.”

Jax typed furiously, scanning financial records, known associates, and police reports. After a few minutes, he let out a low whistle. “Holy shit.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

He turned the screen toward me. It was a police report. A sealed case file from two years ago—buried deep.

Luke had been arrested… and released the next day. No charges filed. No official record. But the details of the arrest were chilling.

Altercation at a warehouse

A dead body found—execution-style hit

Luke was on the scene but walked free

“Looks like someone cleaned this up for him,” Riot said. “Someone powerful.”

Tank added, “And I’m guessing that someone is The Ghost.”

It made sense. The Ghost had Luke under his thumb, and if these texts were any indication, he’d been forcing him to do his bidding. Luke wasn’t a traitor—he was a pawn.

A deep, cutting guilt settled in my chest. All this time, the facts were pointing toward Luke betraying us. But I’d never thought my own brother had turned his back on the club. Luke had been trapped, trying to protect Emmy, maybe even me.

If The Ghost still had him… he might not be alive for much longer.

I pushed away from the table and began pacing the length of the room. My pulse pounded in my ears.

“Find out everything,” I ordered. “I want to know what the hell Luke was forced to do, who he was working with, and where the hell he is now.”

Jax was already back to work.

Tank met my gaze. “If Luke’s still alive, we’re getting him back.”

I nodded, but my gut twisted. If we didn’t find him soon, it might be too damn late.

It didn’t make sense. The idea of Emmy’s brother working for a piece of shit like The Ghost was impossible to accept. But the evidence stacking up in front of me said otherwise. Still, we were missing something.

Tank leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “It’s all here, man. Transfers from offshore accounts. Meeting logs. And this.” He tossed a grainy photo onto the table. “Luke and one of The Ghost’s men at a storage facility on the outskirts of town.”

I stared at the image, a sickness churning in my gut. Luke stood rigid, his face partially turned away, but there was no denying it was him. The guy next to him? One of Ghost’s known enforcers.

Jax tapped at his laptop. “Been digging through old records. Luke’s name started popping up in connection to this shit about a year ago.” His fingers banged on the keys. “Here’s the thing. Before that, he was clean. No offshore accounts. No meetings with the wrong people. No nothing.”

My grip on the table tightened. “So what changed?”

“I think he was forced.”

“Explain,” I growled.

He turned the laptop around, showing a series of financial statements. “Luke got a big deposit a year ago. Looked like a payout at first. But a week later? It was drained. Every cent. Traced it back—his money was funneled into an unregistered medical account.”

My brows pulled together. “Medical?”

Jax nodded. “A hospital in Mexico. Specializes in rare treatments. Someone needed help bad enough that Luke took The Ghost’s deal. And considering he disappeared soon after, I’d say he didn’t get a choice in what came next.”

A lead weight settled in my gut. “So either Luke owed The Ghost, or The Ghost held something—someone—over his head.”

Emmy.

I pushed back from the table. She needed to know. I found her pacing in my room, frustration radiating off her in waves.

The second she saw me, her eyes narrowed. “I need to go back to work, Austin.”

I shut the door behind me, locking it for good measure though it wasn’t necessary. Nobody would dare enter my home without permission. “Not happening.”

Her lips parted in outrage. “I can’t just?—”

“Emmy.” My voice was firm, brooking no argument. “We need to talk about Luke.”

The fight drained from her face. “What about him?”

I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say would wreck her. “Jax found something. There’s a chance he was blackmailed into working for The Ghost.”

Her brows pulled together. “Blackmailed how?”

“Money. A medical account in Mexico. Someone needed treatment—bad enough that he sold his soul to The Ghost for it.”

She stumbled back, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “That doesn’t make sense. Who? Who would he do that for?”

I crouched in front of her, gripping her hands. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Emmy shook her head. “I saw someone before the shooting.”

My entire body locked up. “What?”

She licked her lips, nodding. “In the parking lot. Before the shots were fired. I thought I was imagining things, but… there was someone out there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Watching me. He looked familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.”

My pulse roared in my ears. I had been so focused on protecting her after the shooting, I hadn’t even thought to ask if she saw something before it.

I cupped her face. “You should’ve told me.”

“Well, when we got home, we were kinda busy, and then this morning, you were gone before I woke up.” Her eyes searched mine. “But now I am.”

I nodded, rage simmering beneath my skin. If The Ghost thought he could get away with taking shots at my woman, he was dead fucking wrong.

But getting Emmy to agree to stay in the compound was an impossible task without actually locking her in my room as I’d threatened. She would hate that—and me. She wanted to go back to work. I ran a hand down my face. I got it. Hell, I respected it. But there was no way in hell I was letting her step foot outside this compound right now.

Then an idea hit me.

“Can you hold sessions with your patients remotely?”

She blinked, caught off-guard. “It’s not ideal, but yes, I can.”

“I’ll have a computer sent up for you,” I said. “That’s the best I can do, Emmy. Please don’t fight me on this. For now, it’s too dangerous for you to be outside these walls.”

She didn’t argue. Instead, she stared at me, something shifting in her gaze. To my surprise, she closed the distance between us, placing her hands on either side of my face. Soft. Warm. Grounding.

Her fingers traced my jawline, her thumbs brushing against the scruff on my cheeks, and I stilled.

Then she kissed me. The first time she’d initiated a connection. It felt like acceptance, a declaration of understanding.

My hands slid around her waist, pulling her against me. My grip was firm, possessive, but not demanding. I let her set the pace. I let her tell me, without words, what this meant.

When she finally pulled back, her breath mixing with mine, I rested my forehead against hers.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Emmy,” I murmured.

She did, though. I could see it in her eyes.

And for the first time since she walked back into my life, I felt like maybe—just maybe—she was starting to trust me again.

Later that night, I pulled Jax aside. “Find out where Noah lives. He’s one of Emmy’s patients. Try not to go too dark to find out, okay? Nothing that could fall back on Emmy.”

He raised a brow but didn’t question it. “On it.”

It didn’t take long. The kid lived in a rundown part of town, the kind of neighborhood where no one looked too hard at bruises.

I had that niggling feeling on the back of my neck. “Run a background check on the father.”

Jax cracked his neck, muttering under his breath as he typed. “Alright, let’s see what kind of skeletons this bastard’s got in his closet.”

The screen flickered, and within seconds, a file appeared with a list of priors that made my stomach tighten.

“Jesus.” Jax let out a long whistle. “This guy’s a real piece of shit.”

I stepped forward, scanning the information. Arrests on a myriad of charges. Domestic disturbance. A hospital report from when Noah was seven. A broken arm, listed as from a “fall down the stairs.” Bullshit. And the medical records just kept coming.

“Oh, look at this. He’s got debts. Big ones.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, you’ve got an abusive asshole who’s also in deep with a bookie. What’s the plan, Prez?”

My blood boiled. I had no patience for men who hurt kids—especially ones like Noah who already had the odds stacked against him.

“I’m handling it,” I growled.

Jax smirked. “Thought you might say that.”

Tank chuckled from across the room. “Want backup?”

I shook my head. “No. This one’s personal.”

By the time I pulled up to Noah’s dilapidated house, my rage was a living, breathing thing.

The place was a shithole—paint peeling, trash piled near the porch, a busted-out window covered with cardboard. I could already tell what kind of man lived here. A coward. A bully.

I slammed my fist against the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

A moment later, it cracked open, revealing a thin, greasy-haired man in a stained tank top. Bloodshot eyes gave me a cursory onceover before narrowing. “Who the fuck are you?”

I didn’t answer. I shoved the door open, stepping inside like I owned the place.

“Hey—”

I fisted the man’s shirt and slammed him into the nearest wall.

“You put your hands on that boy again,” I said, menacingly, “and I’ll break every fucking bone in your body.”

His face twisted with anger. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about?—”

I punched him in the gut, cutting off his bullshit excuse. The man gasped, doubling over.

“I saw Noah’s face. Saw what you did.” I gripped the guy’s jaw, forcing him to look up. “And I know you owe big money. You’ve got two problems now—The bookie and me.”

The man swallowed hard, eyes darting around like a rat looking for an escape.

I leaned in. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna keep your hands off Noah. And every day after school, he’s coming to the Kings’ compound. He’s got a new family now. You so much as breathe wrong in his direction, and I’ll be the last thing you ever see. Got it?”

He nodded frantically, choking on his own breath.

I let go, stepping back. The bastard crumpled to the floor, coughing.

I turned to leave, then stopped. “If he needs anything—anything—you buy it. With your money. If I find out you’re gambling it away instead…”

I let the threat hang.

The man scrambled back against the wall, eyes wide with fear.

Good.

I strode out of the house, already dialing Jax. “Make sure Noah’s on our radar. He’s one of us now.”

Noah was safe. For now.

And what about the others? It was time to talk to my brothers. I wouldn’t move forward until I had a majority buy-in. I wasn’t my father, ruling with an iron fist.

I took the ride home to gather my thoughts and come up with a plan on how to present my idea. This would be the first step to keeping Emmy.

I stood at the head of the long, scarred wooden table, arms braced against it as I surveyed my men. Some of them had no clue what was coming, others looked like they were preparing for an attack on The Ghost.

The war room was lit by only a single overhead light casting shadows across the faces of the men I called brothers. Jax sat to my right, Tank to my left, and beyond them, a mix of old-school Kings and the younger generation that had patched in over the years. Some were eager, others skeptical, and a few downright anxious.

This wasn’t just about Noah anymore. It was bigger than that.

I took a breath. “We’ve been running this club the same way for decades. We’ve built a reputation, controlled our streets, handled our business. But look around…” I gestured toward the men seated at the table. “How many of our brothers are either dead or locked up because of the way we’ve done things?”

A few of the older members shifted uncomfortably. Everyone had lost someone.

I continued, “We say we’re a family. We claim we protect our own. But the way we operate—gun deals, muscle jobs, intimidation—it ain’t just hurting the people we’re up against. It’s put targets on our backs. It’s put targets on our families’ backs.”

Tank leaned forward in his chair. “So what’s your solution, Prez?”

I met his gaze. “We go legit.”

Silence.

A low murmur spread through the room. A couple of guys cursed under their breath. Someone let out a bitter chuckle.

“Legit?” One of the older members, Roach, questioned, eyes narrowing. “You mean like… what? We start selling fucking cupcakes?”

A few laughs rippled through the room, but I didn’t crack. I let the room settle before speaking. “I mean we put our resources into something that won’t get us locked up or killed. Look around this town. It’s full of kids getting chewed up by the system, by their own goddamn families. We’ve spent years tearing this place apart. Maybe it’s time we build something instead.”

I went on, a little louder, still calm but commanding. “I’m not talking about turning into saints. I’m talking about survival. The old way of doing things? It’s dying. We either adapt, or we get buried with it.”

Rebel scoffed from across the table, shaking his head. “That’s some weak-ass shit.” His eyes met mine, defiant. “You really think a bunch of broken kids are gonna save this club? That playing babysitter is gonna keep us from going under?”

My jaw ticked. “I think having the town behind us instead of against us will keep us from going under.” I looked around the room, resolve unwavering. “The cops? The feds? They’ve had us in their sights for years. They’re just waiting for the right excuse to put us all away. If we start moving toward legit business—if we give this town a reason to want us here instead of fearing us—it changes the game.”

Tank exhaled sharply. “What kind of ‘legit business’ are we talking about?”

I nodded, glad someone was finally asking the right questions. “First step, we start small. The garage. We expand it, make it more than just a cover. We offer real training. Get kids like Noah in there learning a trade. We build a reputation for honest work.”

Some of the guys nodded at that. The garage was already profitable—it wasn’t a hard sell.

“Then we open something new. A gym, maybe. Somewhere kids can go instead of the streets. A place where we teach them how to fight, defend themselves. Give them discipline, guidance.”

More murmurs, this time less resistant.

“Think about it,” I pressed on. “How many of you had someone to look out for you when you were kids? How many of you could’ve used someone in your corner?” I glanced at Eagle. “Someone who wasn’t just another asshole out for himself?”

A few of the younger guys looked down, clearly remembering their own rough upbringings.

“We ain’t saints. We never will be. But that doesn’t mean we have to be the villains of this town either. We build something real, something that lasts, and we do it our way. With our rules. No government bullshit, no red tape. Our terms.”

The room was quiet now.

Then, after a long moment, Tank blew out a noisy exhale. “Shit.” He shook his head, then smacked a big palm on the table. “Never thought I’d see the day we’d be talking about running a goddamn after-school program.”

Laughter broke some of the tension.

I smirked, but my tone was still serious. “It’s bigger than that. It’s about our future. About having a future.”

Roach grunted. “And what about our other business? You really expect everyone to just give up the life?”

I met his gaze. “Some things will take time. Some things we’ll have to cut off immediately. No more gunrunning. No more muscle jobs for hire. Those are what put us on the radar in the first place.”

A few groans of disapproval, but no one outright protested.

Riot, however, stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “This is bullshit.”

I stayed seated, watching him carefully. “Got something to say, Riot?”

He sneered. “You’re talking about gutting this club…”

Without another word, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Silence filled the war room.

I maintained my composure while taking stock of the men still seated. “Anyone else?”

No one spoke.

I nodded. “Then it’s settled. Noah starts coming here after school. We start thinking bigger. We change. I’ll meet with the core Kings, and we’ll come up with an implementation plan.”

“Fuck, next thing you know, he’s going to have us wearing suits,” Eagle complained, causing a round of laughter to erupt.

And just like that, the Kings of Chaos had taken their first step toward a new future.