CHAPTER TWENTY
Jolt
My palms are slick with sweat as I dismount my bike, my boots hitting the cracked asphalt with a thud.
"What's this about?" I mutter to Turmoil, who's parking his bike next to mine.
He shrugs, showing me he doesn’t know jack shit either. "Your guess is as good as mine, brother."
But I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitch toward the knife at his hip.
We're all on edge, have been since shit’s been getting more intense with the Kodiak MC.
As we file into the clubhouse, the bar's deserted, pool cues abandoned mid-game.
It's too quiet, like the calm before a storm that's about to rip through our world.
Booger jerks his head toward the chapel doors. "Prospects, get your asses in there now."
I exchange a glance with Turmoil, trying to read his expression.
But his face is as unreadable as ever, a skill I'm still trying to master.
I take a deep breath, readying myself for whatever's waiting on the other side of those doors.
The chapel's dimly lit, our officers are already seated around the Reaper’s Reject table, faces grim.
Damon walks into the chapel and takes a seat at the head of the table.
Widow looks over to the group of us prospects, “Stand against the wall,.”
We all take our places against the wall just like Widow asked us to do.
I scan the room, trying to gauge the mood.
Booger's fidgeting with his rings, a sure sign he's itching for a fight.
Kade's face is set in stone, but there's a glint in his eye that makes me nervous.
Dixon’s arms are crossed, and even Mouser seems a bit on edge.
Cobra and Hawk are always on edge, so I don’t pay much mind to them.
Whatever's going on, it’s a big deal.
Damon clears his throat, and the room falls into an expectant hush.
"Brothers," he begins, his voice low and gravelly, "it’s no surprise we've got a situation on our hands."
My mind races, trying to piece together what’s transpired over the last couple of days.
Is it Sally?
Is it the Kodiak MC?
Or is it something else entirely?
"As you all know," Damon continues, "we've been keeping tabs on Sally's movements. Our intel suggests she's made a move we can't ignore."
I feel the tension in the room kick up a notch.
Sally's been a thorn in our side for far too long, but this sounds different.
Kade leans forward, his scarred knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table. "What's the bitch done now?"
Damon's eyes sweep the room, landing on each of us in turn.
When his gaze meets mine, I force myself to hold it, even as my heart hammers against my ribs.
"She's proving Zane, Amara and I right—Sally’s headed south," he says finally. "To Mexico."
A murmur ripples through the room.
Mexico means our charter down there—more specifically, Amara’s charter.
It’s the one that's been keeping the peace and running our operations across the border.
Sally’s an idiot for targeting them.
She wasn’t successful in Montana, or even here, so why in the fuck would she head to Mexico?
The woman is obviously unhinged.
"What does that mean for us?" Cobra asks, voicing the question we're all thinking.
Damon's lips curl into a mirthless smile. "It means, brothers, that we've got a fight on our hands with the Kodiak MC. And it's time to show these fuckers exactly who they're dealing with. Sally enlisted their help, and she’s leaving which is one thorn out of our side. Now it’s time to yank out the other one."
I can feel the energy in the room shift, brothers wanting blood on their hands for the shit we’ve had to endure.
This is what we live for, what we as prospects have been training for.
Booger leans back in his chair, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "About fuckin’ time. I was starting to think we'd gone soft."
There's a rumble of agreement from the other officers.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife as we all process the bombshell about Sally.
Damon holds up a hand, silencing the chatter. "Before we get into the details, there's something else we need to address first." His eyes land on us prospects, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. "You sorry sons of bitches have been prospectin’ long enough. It's time to make a decision."
My heart skips a beat.
Is this it or am I fucking hallucinating?
The moment we've all been waiting for, working our asses off for?
Damon continues, "I'm callin’ a vote. Do we patch these boys in, make them full members of the Reapers Rejects MC?"
The room falls silent, and I swear I can hear my own pulse pounding in my ears.
This is really it.
Everything I've worked for, everything I've sacrificed, it all comes down to this moment.
The officers and full patches exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
I hold my breath, afraid to hope, afraid to let myself believe this might actually be happening.
Finally, Damon speaks. "All in favor?"
Hands rise around the table, one after another.
I count them silently, my heart in my throat.
It's unanimous—everyone wants us to be full patches.
Damon nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's settled then. Mouser, get the cuts."
Mouser stands, heading for a closet in the corner of the room.
He returns with a box, and I can feel the electricity in the air as he starts handing out the fresh cuts.
When he gets to me, I almost can't believe it.
The leather is heavy in my hands, the stitching perfect.
And there, where the "Prospect" patch used to be, it now says "Full Patch."
I run my fingers over the words, a lump forming in my throat.
Hell, my fucking name is even on the damn thing.
"Congratulations, brothers," Damon says, his voice gruff but warm. "You're full members of the Reapers Rejects MC now. Wear those cuts with pride."
I slip my old cut off and the new cut on, feeling the weight of it settle on my shoulders.
It's more than just leather and patches—it's the sense of belonging, it's the fact I have a family even when my blood is a thousand miles away.
It's everything I've been searching for since I first saw Victor ride off on his bike all those years ago.
Kade, his face a mask of barely contained rage, slams his fist on the table.
The sound echoes through the clubhouse, making me flinch.
"Not tryin' to rain on anyone's parade, but what the fuck does this mean for us?" Kade growls, his eyes locked on Damon. "What are we gonna do about those Kodiak bastards?"
My heart's pounding so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
Damon doesn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze sweeps across the room, taking in each of his officers.
I watch as his eyes finally land on Booger, and there's a silent exchange between them that speaks volumes.
Booger clears his throat, his gravelly voice filling the room. "Those Kodiak fuckers have gotten cocky. Stupid, even." He leans forward, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "And in their stupidity, they've left themselves wide open."
I can't help but lean in, hanging on every word.
"Why don’t you elaborate, Boog?" Widow asks, voicing the question we're all thinking.
Booger's grin widens, revealing teeth stained from years of too much coffee and whiskey. "They've been leaving their clubhouse unguarded. Practically begging for us to come in and take what's ours."
The room erupts in a chorus of low whistles and muttered curses.
I can feel the excitement building, a dangerous energy that threatens to consume us all.
Damon nods slowly, a cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good work, Booger. Looks like we've got ourselves an opportunity, brothers."
I catch Widow's eye across the room, and I can see the same mix of excitement and apprehension
Dixon leans forward, his scarred knuckles rapping against the worn wooden table. "Elaborate, Booger. What's their pattern?"
Booger's eyes gleam with a predatory light as he explains, "Almost all of them leave on Fridays and head down to the Strip. Like clockwork, man. They're creatures of habit, and it's gonna be their downfall."
My heart races as I process this information.
It's Friday.
Today.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.
What the hell are we about to do?
Damon's smirk grows wider, more menacing.
He looks around the table, his gaze lingering on each of us in turn.
When those ice-cold eyes land on me, I fight the urge to flinch.
"Tonight," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "we're going to fuck everything up for the Kodiak MC."
The tension in the room ratchets up another notch.
I can feel the adrenaline starting to pump through my veins.
Damon continues, his words dripping with venom. "Their predecessor, the Bears, fucked with us for many years—specifically the Montana charter. We're not going to let history repeat itself."
"Blood will be shed tonight," Damon declares, "and fire will burn everything they love to ash."
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out of my mouth. "What's the plan?"
All eyes turn to me.
Shit.
Did I overstep?
But Damon just nods, approval glinting in his eyes.
"Glad you asked, Jolt," he says. "You're about to get a crash course in how we handle business."
Damon leans forward, his massive forearms resting on the table.
The dim light of the clubhouse catches on his rings, making them glint ominously. "We're taking the attack to them," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "Burning down their club, and killing whoever of them is there."
My heart races at the thought.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my face impassive.
Damon's eyes narrow as he continues, "Women and children are off-limits, as always. We're not fuckin’ animals."
A chorus of grunts and nods ripples around the table.
Even with all of the fucking chaos going on, there are lines we don't cross.
It's one of the things that separates us from everyone else.
Mouser speaks up, his voice cutting through the tension. "What about civilians? Kodiak's got some legit businesses mixed in with their illegal shit."
"Collateral damage," Damon says with a dismissive wave. "We're not aiming for 'em, but if they get caught in the crossfire, that's on Kodiak for putting them in harm's way."
The cold calculation in his voice makes my stomach churn.
This is the price of the life I've chosen, I remind myself.
Dixon clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Doc and Kade will be staying back at the clubhouse," he announces. "In case of any... issues."
I glance over at Doc, noting the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
"Any questions?" Damon asks, his gaze sweeping the room.
The silence is deafening.
We all know what's at stake tonight.
What we're about to do will change everything—for us, for the club, for our enemies.
There's no going back after this.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.
Tonight, I'll either prove myself worthy of that patch... or die trying.
Booger leans forward, his eyes glinting with malice. "Those Kodiak fuckers have gotten cocky. They think they're untouchable."
Dixon nods, a grim smile on his face. "Time we showed them how wrong they are."
I clear my throat, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "What's our endgame here? Are we just sending a message, or..."
Damon's eyes lock onto mine, and I see a flicker of approval there. "We're ending this, once and for all. Tonight, we burn their clubhouse to the ground and take out anyone who gets in our way."
I nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves coiling in my gut.
This is it—my first real action as a full patch.
I'm determined not to let them down.
"Remember," Damon adds, his voice hard, "women and children are off-limits. We don’t fuckin’ touch them, even if they’ve got us starin’ down the barrel of a gun. You get that weapon out of their hands and tell them to get the fuck outta there."
There's a chorus of agreement around the room.
"You've got two hours to get your shit together," Damon says, standing up. "We ride at midnight."
As we file out of the chapel, you can feel everyone’s energy.
It’s not long before the rumble of engines fills the night air as we pull out of the clubhouse.
Cobra shouts over the roar of his Harley. "Nervous, Jolt?"
I flash him a cocky grin. "Nah, just ready to crack some skulls!"
But the truth is, my heart's pounding like a jackhammer.
This is my first real action as a full patch, and I'm determined not to fuck it up.
As we tear down the deserted streets, the wind whips at my face.
It's exhilarating, this feeling of power and purpose.
For a moment, I think of my brother and how many times I’m sure he’s done this.
We slow as we approach the Kodiak MC clubhouse.
It's eerily quiet, no signs of life.
"Looks like a fuckin' ghost town," I mutter, unease creeping up my spine.
Damon signals for us to cut the engines.
The sudden silence is deafening.
We dismount, weapons at the ready.
"Stay sharp," Widow hisses. "This smells like a trap."
We're about a hundred feet from the clubhouse when all hell breaks loose.
The night erupts in a hail of gunfire, muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness like deadly fireworks.
"Fuck!" I dive behind a nearby car, my heart in my throat. "So much for the element of surprise!"
Kodiak members pour out of the clubhouse, guns blazing.
I see Hawk go down, clutching his shoulder.
Damon yells, making a dash for better cover. "Jolt! Cover me!"
I pop up, squeezing off rounds, the recoil jarring my arms.
My mind's racing, adrenaline pumping.
"We're sitting ducks out here!" I shout, ducking as a bullet whizzes past my ear.
I can hear the screams of the wounded, the barked orders of our officers.
It's chaos, pure and simple.
As I reload, I catch a glimpse of a Kodiak member taking aim at Booger.
Without thinking, I swing my gun around and fire.
The man drops like a stone.
"Nice shot, kid!" Booger calls out, giving me a quick nod before returning fire.
My hands are shaking, but I feel a surge of pride.
I just saved a brother's life.
This is what it means to be a Reaper’s Reject.
The gunfight rages on, bullets flying in both directions.
We're taking them down, but they're not going easy.
I grit my teeth and push forward, following Damon's lead as we bum-rush the clubhouse.
The gunfire's died down, but my ears are still ringing.
We burst through the doors, weapons at the ready.
"Clear the rooms!" Damon barks. "Watch for stragglers!"
The inside of the clubhouse is a mess of overturned furniture and broken glass.
I kick open a door, my heart pounding in my chest.
Empty.
"Jolt, over here!" Cobra calls out.
I round the corner to find him standing over a cowering Kodiak member.
The man's eyes are wide with fear.
"Please," he whimpers. "I got kids..."
Cobra looks at me, his expression hard. "What do you think, Jolt? You want the honors?"
I hesitate, my finger on the trigger.
This isn't what I signed up for.
Before I can decide, a woman's scream pierces the air.
"Mommy! Help!"
We spin around to see a group of women and children huddled in a corner, terror etched on their faces.
One of the women is clutching a toddler to her chest.
"Jesus," I mutter. "What do we do?"
A gunshot rings out in the background and I turn back for a split second, seeing the former Kodiak member bleeding out on the floor.
Damon appears beside us, his face grim. "Tell 'em to get out. Now."
I nod, relief washing over me. "You heard him, ladies. Take your kids and go. We're not here for you."
The women don't need to be told twice.
They scramble past us, some sobbing, others shooting us hateful glares.
I can't blame them, if our girls were in their shoes, they’d be doing the same.
As the last of them disappears out the door, Cobra turns to me. "You good?"
I nod, trying to hide the tremor in my hands. "Yeah. Let's finish this."
Outside, I hear Hawk's voice. "Fire in the hole!"
The unmistakable whoosh of a Molotov cocktail follows, and suddenly the air is filled with the smell of smoke and burning gasoline.
"Time to go," Damon orders. "This place is about to become a bonfire."
We rush out, the heat of the flames already licking at our backs.
I turn to see the clubhouse engulfed, orange flames reaching for the sky.
As we mount our bikes, I catch Cobra's eye.
The roar of our engines drowns out the crackling flames behind us as we tear down the empty streets.
My heart's still pounding, adrenaline surging through my veins.
I can't wipe the grin off my face, even as the stench of smoke clings to my clothes.
My hands grip the handlebars tighter, steadier now than they've ever been.
We ride in formation back to our clubhouse, the night air cool against my face.
As we pull into the lot, I catch sight of my reflection in a parked car's window.
There's a wild glint in my eyes I've never seen before.
Damon cuts his engine first, and we follow suit.
The silence is almost too fucking much.
"Well, boys," he says, his voice gruff but satisfied. "I'd say that was a successful night's work."
Laughter and whoops of agreement erupt around me.
I join in, feeling like I'm floating on cloud nine.
Cobra claps me on the back, nearly knocking me off balance. "How's it feel, Jolt? First night as a full patch, and you help take down our biggest rival."
I shake my head, still in disbelief. "Man, I... I don't even know how to describe it. It's like..."
"Like you're high as a kite without touching a damn thing?" Hawk interjects with a knowing smirk.
"Yeah," I nod, chuckling. "Exactly like that."
Damon gestures toward the clubhouse. "Let's take this inside, boys. Time to celebrate."
As we file in, I can't help but be surprised at how different everything feels already.
It's the same clubhouse I've been in a thousand times before, but now?
Now I'm not just some prospect hanging on the fringes.
I'm part of something bigger.
I've crossed a line tonight, one I can't uncross.
And you know what?
I wouldn't want to if I could.
This is who I am now—a full patch member of the Reapers Rejects MC.
And damn, does it feel good.