Page 22

Anchor

The heat on Skull Island didn’t just come from the sun, it came from the pressure of secrets and the slow boil of unanswered questions. I sat in my office, feet up on the corner of my desk, and eyed the bank of monitors mounted on the wall like they might finally give me the one answer I needed.

In the last few days, we’d turned this island into a goddamn fortress.

Every trail—every fucking trail—was now under camera watch. We’d cut back brush, reinforced old fencing near the cliffs, and added motion sensors near the tunnel entrance and the boat docks. Skull and Cross rerouted wiring so every feed came back to both the surveillance office, my office, and my goddamn phone.

No one was coming or going without us knowing.

Pearl had been my only peace.

Each night, I found myself walking back to her cabin without even meaning to. And every time I saw her face, her sleepy smile, that perfect curve of her hips in my shirt, I felt steadier. But I also saw the worry there and the flicker of doubt she tried to hide. Like maybe she thought this would disappear when the danger did.

It wouldn’t. I wasn’t letting her go.

But first, I had to make damn sure she was safe.

I dropped my boots to the floor and reached for the burner phone in my drawer. Only one number programmed. One I hadn’t used in a long time.

Razor.

The man had been out of the club for more than ten years now, but he still had eyes in places I didn’t. And even if he couldn’t know what was going down on Skull Island, maybe he could help me narrow the scope of who the hell we were dealing with.

The line rang three times before a rough voice answered.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

“Didn’t think I’d be callin’ either.”

Razor let out a dry chuckle.

“Well, hell. Anchor. What’s it been, nine years?”

“Over ten,”

I muttered.

He whistled low.

“Time flies when you’re not dodging bullets and baby mamas.”

“Speak for yourself. What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Settled in California. Got a kid and a woman. Life has been pretty good since I left the Kings.”

Razor sighed.

“What about you?”

“Just running the island and keeping the club together. You assholes blew it up pretty good when you left.”

Razor laughed.

“Yeah, man, that sure was a fucking shit show.”

There was a short pause.

“So, what’s this about? You needing something, or just wanted to hear my sweet voice again?”

I scratched my jaw.

“Just checkin’ in. Seeing if you’ve heard anything about Venom.”

Silence.

Then a sharp inhale.

“Venom? Christ. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You haven’t heard from him?”

“Fuck no. Last time I saw that bastard, he was snorting something off the hood of a cop car and talkin’ about the ‘next era of chaos.’”

Razor exhaled sharply.

“That was just before shit blew up between us. You remember.”

Oh, I remembered. Razor had been Prez when Venom started getting too bold, too violent, even for us. Started making backdoor deals, getting high on club time, and going rogue. When Razor tried to cut him out, the whole club fractured. Razor walked away. Venom disappeared.

“You ever hear where he went?” I asked.

“Some rumors he popped up in Louisiana. Then maybe Texas. But the trail goes cold every damn time.”

Razor paused.

“Hell, for all we know, he’s dead. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me either,”

I said. But it didn’t sit right. Venom wasn’t the type to die quiet.

“He always had that thing about him. It was like a switch he would flip,”

Razor muttered.

“One minute he was your best friend, next he was talkin’ about burning the whole world down.”

“Yeah. He ever say he hated the island?”

Razor snorted.

“You serious? He hated that place. Said it was ‘domesticated chaos.’ Too tame for him. That’s why he never wanted to be part of the island crew.”

“But he was.”

“Of course he was. We all were.”

I leaned forward in my chair.

“You think he’d come back? After all this time?”

“Why?”

Razor asked.

“You hearing his name floatin’ around again?”

I didn’t answer. Just let the silence hang.

Razor sighed.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on there, but Venom was the kind of guy who made enemies everywhere. You’d need a goddamn chalkboard to track all the people who wanted him dead or wanted to work with him. But if you’re sniffing around that name, I’d trust your gut.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Listen,”

Razor said, his voice lower now.

“If Venom’s back… you better hope it’s not personal. He doesn’t do half-measures. If he’s got a grudge? He’ll scorch the fuckin’ earth. He hates my fucking guts, and I’m sure the Kings of Anarchy fall into that same category.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Good to know.”

But why now was he coming for the Kings? It had been ten fucking years since shit hit the fan.

“You ever need backup—”

“You’re out, Razor,”

I grunted.

“Yeah,”

he said quietly.

“But I still give a shit. Especially if it’s him.”

We sat in silence a moment longer.

“You think I’m wrong?” I asked.

“No,”

Razor said.

“I think you’re probably right. I just hope it’s not too late.”

I ended the call without another word. Set the phone down on the desk and leaned back again, staring at the ceiling.

If Venom was behind this, then it wasn’t random. It was personal.

Which meant the storm wasn’t over. It was just getting started.

And now I had something to lose.

Pearl.

And I’d burn this entire fucking island to the ground before I let him get near her if he was responsible for this.