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“Maybe that’s better.” He huffs a bitter laugh. “I got two brothers I grew up with and I wouldn’t piss on either of ‘em if they were on fire.”

That’s probably how Cain feels about me. Or should .

“I hear you, Prez.” I’ll say just about anything to appease Z and shut this conversation down. “I think he really wants to see my sister—they did live together when they were little. But I’m not sure I trust him, yet. I gotta see what his intentions are before I help them reconnect.”

He frowns and stares at me for a few beats. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. You need anything, let me know.” He pats my shoulder, then bounds up the stairs into the clubhouse.

Rooster and I follow him inside. Everyone’s already filing into the war room. No stopping to gab with the ol’ ladies today. Wait. “Where is everyone?”

“I know as much as you do,” Rooster says.

Sparky shuffles over to us, eyes bloodshot and faint smile forever plastered on his lips. “Ol’ ladies and kids are down in the dining room or doing yoga.” He tilts his head toward the hallway.

“Look at you, so knowledgeable at this hour.” I bump my fist against his shoulder.

“I know stuff,” he mutters, rubbing the spot and shooting me a scowl. “When you close your mouth and open your mind, you absorb all the things the universe has to offer.”

“Greaaat.” I widen my eyes and nod slowly.

Even though no one lingered in the living room, it takes a while for the guys to find a seat and Rock to call the meeting to order.

I drop into a chair on the far side of the table, halfway between Rock’s end and Z’s. Rooster slides into the seat on my left.

Outside, more bikes rumble into the parking area—stragglers.

I’m not sticking around after this, so they better not block me in. I double-check that my phone’s off. Just because Wrath didn’t collect them today doesn’t mean he won’t choke us if a phone rings during the meeting.

I lift my head and meet Grinder’s eyes across the table. He dips his chin like he’s silently thanking me for remembering to shut off my phone.

I send my gaze up and down the table. Of course, it’s downstate guys late to the meeting.

Hustler and Suds bust through the door just as Wrath’s about to close it. Hustler’s grinning like an idiot and holds up a crumpled file folder and nods at Teller.

“All right.” Teller holds up his hand for a long-distance high-five across the table.

Hustler stops and says a few words against Z’s ear. Z nods quickly, then Hustler drops into the chair next to Z.

I lean left and whisper to Rooster. “Think we’re all gettin’ raises?”

“Looks like it.”

“All right.” Rock leans forward, no need to bang his gavel this morning—he already has our attention. “Thanks, everyone, for being here. As always, welcome to our downstate brothers. I know it’s a longer ride for you, but we appreciate seeing your faces.”

“Not a problem, Rock,” Butcher rumbles, waving one of his meaty hands through the air. “You know we never say no to more time in the saddle.”

Hustler’s practically vibrating in his seat. Teller leans in, murmurs something to Rock, who gives a slight nod.

Rock gestures down the table. “Z, you want to go first?”

Z props his elbows on the table. “Our dirty little cop says we’re off their radar—for now.”

“Jesus fuck,” Suds groans. “About time.”

“The break-in at the laundromat was a pain in the ass but since my boys cooperated with their investigation.” Z reaches over and slaps Hustler’s arm, then points at Rooster and Eazy. “They decided we must be good little law-abiding bikers.”

Grinder snorts. “That guy couldn’t find his way out of a phone booth with a crowbar.”

Dex flashes a sly grin. “I don’t think they have phone booths anymore.”

“No one asked you,” Grinder growls, casting a sideways glance Dex’s way. “Keep it up and I’ll take you outside and teach you some goddamn respect.”

Dex’s grin only widens.

“Anyway.” Z raises his voice. “Hustler has news.”

Hustler grins like a kid who just passed a test he didn’t study for—or understand—which kind of sums up his role as Downstate’s treasurer.

“Thanks to Teller’s guidance, we saw a solid jump in our portfolio.

Teller recommended we lock in profits on a few positions, so I’ll be distributing bonuses to Downstate this week. ”

“Nice!” Butcher pumps his fist in the air.

“Prospects gettin’ a bump too?” Suds asks.

Hustler and Z share a look. “Small, but yeah,” Z answers.

Suds scowls. “Prospects didn’t get shit back in my day.”

Z stares him down for a beat. “We didn’t have indoor plumbing back in your day either—doesn’t mean we need to shit in a hole out back.” His cold, sarcastic tone makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

“Progress is good,” Rock says. “We ask a lot of prospects.”

“Unbunch your boxers,” Hustler mutters at Suds. “He ain’t gettin’ a full cut. But he takes risks like the rest of us—oughta get something for that.”

“Pretty sure all the free pussy is the reward,” Eazy mutters, then side-eyes Z. “Just kiddin’, Prez. I’m cool.”

“Good.” Z flicks a hand, passing the floor back to Rock.

“Teller, share your news,” Rock says.

Teller gives us all a shit-eating grin. “Same deal. Bonuses will hit by the end of the week.” His smug smile slips into something more serious but almost hesitant.

“The U.S. market’s volatile right now, so I’m looking to reduce our risk by diversifying into some international positions.

Nothing wild, just a few high-growth opportunities I think we’ve been overlooking. ”

He glances around, picking up on the blank stares and fading attention, then tacks on quickly, “If you want to go over the charts after church, come find me.”

Sparky lifts a hand, his eyes still bloodshot but his voice firm. “You’re not talking about investing our money in places that use child labor, fund terrorism, or disappear journalists, then gaslight the world about human rights concerns, are you?”

A beat of silence settles over the table.

Teller’s grin fades. His voice drops, low and steady. “No. I’m not touching anything shady. Just a few sectors overseas—clean energy, medical tech. Stuff like that.”

“It’s all hella shady though, isn’t it?” Dex says.

Rock rubs his fingers over his forehead, a clear sign he’d like us to wrap it the fuck up.

“To some degree, sure,” Teller agrees. “Doesn’t mean I don’t do what I can to minimize harm.” He flashes a quick, easy smile. “But we gotta eat too.”

And buy hundred-thousand-dollar SUVs.

Nope, definitely don’t add that to the conversation.

“Thanks, Teller,” Sparky says.

“I can give you a list, if you want,” Teller offers. “You might be more plugged into causes I’m not aware of. If there’s something specific you’re opposed to, let me know. I can adjust.”

“Jesus Christ,” Suds mutters. “Hippie Harry over here will have you investing in energy crystals and goat Pilates.”

Z narrows his gaze. “It’s a valid concern these days.”

Sparky lifts his chin at Z.

“Any other questions?” Rock asks in a tone that suggests the answer better be no.

Eazy raises his hand and swivels his head between Z and Rock. “This mean we gotta kick up more money to National?”

The strangest hush falls over the table. No, more specifically Rock’s end of the table. It’s brief but noticeable. To me anyway.

I’ve never wanted to be involved in whatever the fuck it is the treasurer does, but knowing Priest, I bet he has all kinds of questions whenever a charter sends National more money than usual.

Downstate’s never had that problem before.

When Sway was our president, we were bleeding money, not gettin’ bonuses.

But dealing with National is Teller’s problem, and now Hustler’s too. Not mine.

After a beat, Teller leans forward, voice smooth as ever. “Yup, we kick up the normal percentage. Mark it down as income.”

Eazy frowns. “That don’t seem right, since you’re the one doin’ all the…” He waves his fingers like he’s casting a spell. “Investing wizardry.”

“Great.” Z claps his hands. “When Rock gets promoted to national prez, you’ll be the first one I nominate to be on the committee to change the bylaws.”

Everyone chuckles. Even Rock.

“Whoa.” Rav throws out his arms, waving like he’s guiding a 747 in for a landing. “Rock, you’re not threatening to gut him for suggesting you’ll be national prez?”

Grinder’s normally grumpy mug twists into something closer to savage pride. “Someone must be making peace with his upcoming promotion.”

“Knock it off,” Rock growls. “I’m not making peace with shit. Priest isn’t retiring any time soon.”

“That we know of,” Wrath says.

“Yet,” Dex adds, not missing a beat.

Z raps his knuckles on the table, dragging our focus away from Rock. “Any other questions?”

I’m itching to ask how large our bonuses will be. Enough to buy a new car? Or enough to buy a tank of gas for my current vehicle? Some details would be nice. But I’m not eager to prolong church today to satisfy my curiosity.

When no one bites, Rock turns toward Wrath. “How do you want to handle Whisper’s funeral?”

Wrath leans back, brow furrowed. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“I thought I smelled smoke,” Murphy mutters.

Teller elbows him in the ribs.

Ignoring their antics, Wrath continues. “Wolf Knights were friends of the club for years. At least a few of us need to be there to pay our respects.” He thumps his palm against his chest. “As much as I didn’t get along with Whisper in the end, I need to be there to remind the Wolf Knights their visit has an expiration date. ”

“Fuck yeah, it does,” Z mutters.

“But,” Wrath continues, “We need to walk a fine line between showing our respect and whipping out our dicks to remind the Wolf Knights that Lost Kings run Slater County now.”

“Agreed,” Rock says. “Too many Kings prowling around could be interpreted as disrespectful.”

Wrath’s gaze narrows on Rock. “ You need to be there.”

Rock slides a slow, sarcastic eye roll Wrath’s way. “I didn’t say otherwise.”

“I’m sitting it out,” Z says.