Page 24 of Jagger’s Remorse (Iron Veins MC #1)

"Good boy," she whispers, so soft only I can hear. Then louder, pained, “You bastard! You fucking?—"

She collapses, taking the knife with her.

Blood spreads across the ground. Her breathing goes shallow, stutters.

Pablo starts laughing. "I knew it! I knew you'd choose them over her. Just like your father chose duty over family."

My father. The words register through the performance. "You knew my old man?"

"Knew him? I killed him." Pablo's grin is feral. "He was getting too close to our operations. Had to go. Made it look like a rival club hit. Two bullets to the head, left in a ditch outside Bakersfield."

Red floods my vision. But I stay still. Wait.

"He was righteous, your father. Couldn't be bought. Kept detailed notes about our routes, our connections. Would have brought down the whole operation if I hadn't handled it."

"When?"

"Fifteen years ago. Right before Miguel started skimming. Almost like losing his DEA contact made him desperate." Pablo's enjoying this. "Your old man died trying to be a hero. Just like you're going to die being smart."

Pablo steps closer to examine Scarlett's body. "Perfect. Eduardo will be devastated. His precious goddaughter murdered by her lover?—"

Scarlett moves.

Fast as a snake, she springs up, Pablo's moment of inattention costing him everything.

The knife—the one I put in her—finds his throat.

"Surprise, Tío ," she hisses.

Pablo staggers back, hands clutching his neck. Blood sprays between his fingers, arterial and final.

"How—"

"Practice," she says coldly. "And a man who trusts me enough to follow my lead."

Pablo drops to his knees. Tries to speak. Only gurgles come out.

"Oh, and Pablo?" Scarlett crouches beside him. "My mother wasn't a whore. She was an artist. She painted sunsets and sang to me every night. She was worth a hundred of you."

Pablo's eyes go wide. Then empty. He falls forward, twitches once, and goes still.

Rico and his men raise their weapons, but we're already moving.

The firefight is brutal and quick. Scarlett might be wounded— really wounded this time—but she fights like a demon.

We're outnumbered but not outclassed.

Poncho takes down three before a bullet finds his shoulder, but keeps shooting with his off hand.

Hammer goes hand-to-hand with a Sombra enforcer, comes out victorious but bloody.

I put two in Rico's chest, watch him fall next to Pablo.

Kid dies with surprise on his face.

When the dust settles, we're the only ones standing.

Except for Mouse.

He's on his knees in the dirt, cradling a gut wound. Must have caught a stray in the crossfire.

"My family," he gasps. "Please."

I find them in the van. Terrified but unharmed.

"Go," I tell his ex-wife after cutting their bonds. "Take your daughter and go. Don't come back."

"David—Mouse—is he...?"

"Dying."

She nods, tears streaming. Gathers her daughter. "He wasn't always weak. He was a good man once."

"He still is. He just loved you more than his honor."

She kisses my cheek—surprising me—then takes her daughter and runs.

I return to Mouse. Kneel beside him.

"They're safe," I tell him.

"Thank you." Blood bubbles from his lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. They had my girls, Jagger. My baby girl."

"I know."

"Would you... would you have done something different?"

I think about Scarlett. About what I'd do to protect her.

"No," I admit. "I'd have done exactly the same."

He manages a smile. "Tell the brothers... tell them I died fighting. Not... not as a rat."

"You died protecting your family," I say. "Nothing more honorable than that."

His hand finds mine. Squeezes once. "Take care of them. The club. Each other."

"Always do."

Then Mouse is gone.

I close his eyes, say a prayer I'm not sure I believe in anymore.

"Jagger," Scarlett calls. She's standing over Pablo's body, phone in hand. "We need to call Eduardo."

"What do we tell him?"

"The truth. Or at least a twisted version of it." She sways slightly. I catch her before she falls.

"You're hurt."

"The knife went a little deeper than planned. But I'll live." She leans into me. "You did good. Sold the betrayal perfectly."

"Thought you believed I'd actually do it."

"For a second, I did." She looks up at me. "But then I remembered. You're mine. And you protect what's yours."

"Always."

"Your father?—"

"Was a good man who died trying to do right." I help her to one of the intact vehicles. "At least now I know why."

She dials Eduardo. I hold her while she spins the story.

Pablo was a traitor. Working with Sombra to undermine Eduardo's operations. She discovered his betrayal and handled it.

"I have his body as proof," she says. "And documents showing his connections to our enemies."

"Bring me everything," Eduardo commands. "Come to Mexico. Tomorrow."

"I'm injured?—"

"Tomorrow, mija. Family business cannot wait. I will send a jet for you."

The line goes dead.

"This is it," she says quietly. "He's either going to name me his heir, or kill me for killing family."

"Then we run. Disappear. Fuck Eduardo and his games."

"No." She straightens, steel in her spine despite the blood. "We have to finish this. One way or another."

We load up the bodies that matter—Pablo and Mouse. The rest can rot.

Back at the compound, Doc patches us up while I break the news about Mouse.

"He died in the firefight," I tell church. "Fought bravely. Saved my life."

The lie tastes necessary. His family deserves peace, not shame.

"What about Tina?" Squirrel asks.

"Gone," Raven says flatly. "Packed up and ran last night."

"Let her run," I say. "She's got nothing now. No protection, no money. She'll either disappear or end up dead within a month."

"Three Devils?" Squirrel asks.

"Done. Rico's dead. What's left of them scattered like roaches."

"And Sombra?"

"Will think twice before moving on us again. We left a message written in blood."

"Good work." He lights a cigarette, studies me. "What about this trip to Mexico?"

"Eduardo wants to see Scarlett. Discuss family business."

"Could be a trap."

"Everything with Eduardo is a trap," Scarlett says from the doorway. She shouldn't be standing, but there she is. "The trick is knowing which ones to spring."

"You sure about this?" Squirrel asks her.

"No. But I'm going anyway." She meets his eyes. "If something happens to me, the club keeps its current arrangement with Sinaloa. That's my guarantee."

"And if something happens to him?" Squirrel nods at me.

"Then I burn Mexico to the ground," she says simply.

"Fair enough." Squirrel stands. "Church dismissed. Get some rest. You both look like shit."

Later, in our room, I help her change her bandages.

"Your father," she says quietly. "Pablo killed him?"

"Seems like."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Least now I know." I tape the gauze in place. "He's gone. Pablo's gone. Mouse is gone. That's what matters."

"Two rats," she muses. "Tina and Mouse. How did we miss it?"

"Because we trusted them. Because they were family." I meet her eyes. "That's not a weakness. That's what makes us human."

She touches my face. "We could find out more about your father. When I take over?—"

"When you take over, we look forward, not back." I catch her hand. "The dead are dead. It's the living that matter."

"Speaking of living..." She shifts, straddles my lap carefully. "We should probably make the most of tonight. In case tomorrow goes badly."

"Scarlett, you're injured?—"

"So are you." She kisses my throat. "Seems like a good excuse to be gentle for once."

And she is. Slow and careful and nothing like us at all.

"I love you," she says after. "In case I don't get another chance to say it."

"You'll have a million chances."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

But as I hold her while she sleeps, I can't shake the feeling that tomorrow changes everything.

One way or another, our war with Eduardo ends.

Either with Scarlett crowned or buried.

Either way, blood will spill.

The only question is whose.