Finding another staircase at the end of the hall, I head up to the third floor.
I’m curious to see what else our new home has to offer.
When I get to the top, I quickly realize the layout is similar to the second floor.
I peek into the first door. “It’s more living quarters,” I say to myself.
As I turn to head back downstairs, I hear a sound that has my feet moving towards the end of the hallway.
When I get to the last door on the left, I lift my hand and slowly push it open.
There sits Titan in a big black leather computer chair with his mouth hanging open.
“Uhhh, you good, brother?”
His eyes come to me then go back to the computer monitors lining one wall, each displaying a different angle of the property outside. Multiple desktop setups occupy the large L-shaped desk, their towers humming quietly. More tech gear sits on the shelves along another wall.
Titan spins in his chair, his brown eyes lit up as his face splits in a grin that makes him look like a kid on Christmas morning. “Fuck yeah, I’m good,” he hoots. “Dude! Look at this shit?”
I step further into the room, looking at all the gear. “Uhm… Yeah.” I don’t know a thing about computers. I’m good with my fists, not technology.
Titan shakes his head and laughs. “You have no idea,” he replies, turning back to one of the computers. “With this rig alone I could hack into the Pentagon and those smug bastards would never know I was there.”
“That’s good,” I say, though it comes out more like a question.
“Good?” He runs a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “Klutch. The Saints must have dropped at least a hundred grand on all of this shit.”
My brows shoot up. “Are you fucking serious?”
His head bobs up and down. “That’s not even the best part.
” Titan gestures to the wall of security monitors.
“We’ve got eyes on every inch of the property.
Motion sensors, heat detection, facial recognition software—nobody is getting within a hundred yards of this place without us knowing exactly who they are. ”
The implications aren’t lost on me. With the kind of enemies we’ve made by walking away from Rogue and the Valenciaga cartel, this level of security isn’t just a luxury—it’s a necessity.
“The Saints don’t fuck around,” I say, echoing my earlier sentiment.
“No, they do not,” Titan agrees, still taking it in.
“And check this out.” He taps a few keys on one of the computers, and a blueprint of the building appears on a monitor.
“We’ve got a panic room built into the basement.
Steel reinforced, separate ventilation system, enough supplies to last a couple of months. ”
I shake my head in amazement. “Fucking crazy, dude. It’s like we’re ready for World War III.”
“That’s why they’re still the top dogs,” Titan replies. “Planning and preparation.”
Leaving him to his new toys, I make my way back downstairs to find most of my brothers gathered around the bar. Denali is pouring shots of the gifted Macallan, passing them around with a satisfied look on his face.
“Find anything interesting upstairs?” he asks as I approach.
“There are twenty private suites upstairs. And Titan is in nerd heaven with all the tech stuff the Saints left up there,” I reply, accepting a shot glass.
Denali nods, his expression thoughtful. “The Saints don’t do anything half-ass. When they bring a new charter into the fold, they make sure they’re set up for success.”
“Speaking of which,” my father interjects, raising his glass, “I think a toast is in order.”
We all lift our glasses, the amber liquid catching the light.
“To new beginnings,” Denali says solemnly. “And to the brothers who stood by their principles, no matter the cost. Bastards Saints for life.”
“Bastard Saints for life,” we echo, downing our shots.
The whisky burns a path down my throat, warming my chest. It’s smooth as silk.
“So,” Beast says, setting his empty glass on the bar, “now that we’re officially a Saints charter, what’s next?”
Denali leans against the bar, his expression turning more serious. “Now we prove to them that we were worth the investment. We’ve got a shipment coming in next week from Onyx Beach.”
“Where the fuck is that?” Beast asks, confusion riddled over his face.
Undertaker pours himself another shot, answering absentmindedly. “California.”
I feel my lips turn up. As the road captain, we can always count on Undertaker to know where these random places are. The man is like a walking roadmap.
“Our days of only dabbling in only local business are over. These are the big leagues, boys.” Pee Wee grins.
“I guess now is as good of a time as any to call church,” Denali says as he walks around the bar and grabs a beer from the well.
“Give me one of those,” I say, bellying up to the bar. He hands me one then hands out a few more when Yukon, Pee Wee, and Beast hold out their hands.
“Alright, let’s go.”
I follow Denali and Pee Wee down the hall past the bathrooms and into the one room I haven’t been in yet.
The chapel. Inside is a long wooden table that has been stained and sealed.
It reminds me of a large piece of driftwood.
Burned onto the center is our new logo. A skull wearing a crown with crossbones placed behind it. It’s the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.
“I know I keep saying this, but shit. They really thought of everything,” I say, eyeing the beautiful table and the screens that match the ones in Titan’s tech room upstairs. Just like in his room the entire property is laid out, every inch under surveillance.
“Right?” Beast says from beside me.
I nod because seriously. They have really thought of everything.
Denali takes his seat at the head of the table and we all follow suit, dropping into our own chairs. Titan hurries in last with a laptop tucked under his arm.
“Sorry. I got caught up with everything upstairs.” He shrugs.
“Nerdvana,” Yukon teases. Beast holds up his hand and Yukon slaps his palm against the big man’s hand. The two enforcers are always giving our tech man shit.
I guess it’s too much to hope they’d lay off since everything went down with the Renegade Bastards.
Titan flips them off, not bothered in the slightest by either Enforcer’s taunting.
“Okay,” Denali starts, drawing every man’s attention. “As I was saying. Our first shipment is coming from Onyx Beach. The merchandise will arrive at the funeral home. We’ll get the assets put into the transport containers–”
Beast and Yukon both start chuckling at the mention of transport containers.
I feel my own lips twitching. The transport containers Denali is referring to are top of the line coffins Undertaker had custom made.
They have a false bottom. It truly is the perfect setup.
The odds of law enforcement, especially the DEA, pulling over a Hearse and asking to check the contents inside of a coffin are slim to none.
“–and get the truck back on its way to Rochester.”
“This shipment coming directly from the Cuban Cartel?” Pee Wee asks, looking rather uncomfortable in the chair he’s sitting in. At six-foot-four and two hundred and forty pounds of pure muscle, the man might as well be a giant.
Denali nods at his right hand man. “The very same. It’s our first official job as part of the distribution chain.”
“Better than trafficking women and children,” my father mutters, his jaw tightening at the memory.
A heavy silence falls over us all. It’s been nine months since Rogue laid out his plans to partner with the Valenciaga Cartel on a human trafficking operation.
The promise of massive profits had tempted some, but when Denali stood up and called it what it was—pure fucking evil—the club fractured right down the middle.
I remember the fury in Rogue’s eyes when my father and I stood with Denali.
The betrayal, the threats, the ultimatum.
We could stay and participate, or we were out bad.
Those were our choices. No biker ever wants to be exiled from his club, from his brothers.
But there are lines some of us refuse to cross.
And Rogue had drawn that line in the sand.
“We made the right call,” I say firmly, breaking the silence. “Rogue lost his fucking mind.”
“Lost his fucking mind, or showed his true colors?” Yukon questions with an arched brow. “The man was always a greedy fucker.”
Undertaker nods in agreement.
“Either way,” Denali interjects, “that’s behind us now. We’ve got a fresh start with the Saints, and they’ve put a lot of faith in us. It’s time to focus on the future.”
“Yeah. Fuck Rogue,” Beast grumbles.
“As much as I wish it was that easy. It’s not.
Yeah, this is our new start, but we can’t get complacent either,” Denali warns.
“The Valenciaga family isn’t going to forget that we told them to get fucked.
Not to mention the Cuban’s are their biggest rival.
And Rogue…” Denali blows out a breath. “He certainly hasn’t forgotten what he sees as our betrayal. ”
“He backed us into a corner,” I counter.
“Maybe so, but I guarantee that’s not how he sees it,” Pee Wee rumbles, his massive hands flexing on the table.
A knot of unease forms in my gut. The Renegade Bastards aren’t to be taken lying down, and Rogue has a particular talent for holding grudges.
When we were unorganized and un-backed, he probably didn’t see us as a threat.
Now that everything's coming together, that will quickly change.
Not to mention the Valenciaga Cartel will have their own ax to grind.
Fuck. Without even throwing the first stone we have some serious enemies to watch out for.
“I’ve already reached out to the other chapters,” Denali continues. “They know our situation and have assured me that an attack on us is an attack on all Saints. We’ve got the full weight of the Saints behind us now.”
Relief washes through me at his words. That’s the difference between where we are now and where were nine months ago. We aren’t alone anymore. We have brothers scattered across the country who will ride to our aid if needed.
“Looks like things are finally turning around for us,” my father says, clapping me on the shoulder.
The words have barely left his mouth when the sound of gunfire shatters the moment. Multiple shots ring out in rapid succession.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Even through the thick brick walls of the clubhouse, the sound of automatic weapons is unmistakable. We’re under attack.
“Shit!” Beast yells as we all shove out of our chairs and crouch low beside the table.
“Fuck that noise,” Yukon shouts, moving toward the door.
“Fuck it.” Standing up, I pull my Glock from the holster and rush behind him out the door. At full speed, I run down the hallway into the common room, but Yukon is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is that crazy fucker?” Beast hurries around me to where the front door is standing wide open.
“I don’t know.” My heart is pounding. It’s been a minute since someone opened fire on us.
“You hit?” Denali asks, moving towards the door behind Beast.
“No.”
I follow them out in time to see Three black Escalades speeding away from the property. The tires squeal as they round the corner before finally disappearing from view.
“Prospects!” Denali bellows. “Shut those fucking gates!”
The two prospects who’ve been standing guard scramble to close the heavy steel gates, their faces pale with shock.
Titan comes running down the steps from the main entrance, tablet in hand. “I got it all on camera,” he pants. “Clear shots of the vehicles and partial plates.”
“Rogue sending a message?” Beast suggests, holstering his weapon now that the immediate threat has passed.
Denali arches a skeptical brow. “Driving Escalades?”
He has a point. Nobody from our old club owns anything that nice.
“Could be Valenciaga,” Titan offers, scrolling through footage on his tablet.
I frown, considering the possibility. “Why this?” I wave my hand around. “Why not kick in the doors and take us out with their army?”
“Maybe it was a warning,” my father suggests. “A reminder that they haven’t forgotten about us.”
“Maybe,” Denali says slowly.
The implication hangs in the air. Valenciaga and the Cuban Cartel are rivals fighting for control of distribution routes across the Midwest. By aligning with the Saints, we’ve officially picked a side in a war that has been brewing for years.
A war that, up until now, had nothing to do with us.
“Great,” I mutter. “First day here, and we’ve already got the fucking cartel taking potshots at us.”
“Look at the bright side,” Beast says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “At least we know who it was... sorta.”
I snort, shoving him off. “Yeah, that’s really comforting… sorta.”
“Get inside,” Denali orders before turning his attention to our tech man. “Titan, I want those plates run ASAP. See if you can get any clear shots of the shooters. The rest of you, stay alert. This might not be the last visit we get today.”
We file back into the clubhouse, the earlier celebratory mood extinguished. The attack has reinforced what we already know—we’ve made powerful enemies, but we’ve also made powerful allies.
As I step back into the main room, I catch my father watching me with an odd expression.
“What?” I ask, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
He shakes his head slowly. “Nothing, mijo. Just thinking that life is about to get very interesting.”
Between our new alliance with the Saints, beef with the RBMC, and finding ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a cartel war, it’s more like things are about to get real fucking crazy.