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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE NIGHT WAS thick with silence, the kind that made your skin itch. The narrow road stretched ahead, swallowed by trees that blocked out what little moonlight managed to cut through the clouds. We killed the engines, the sudden absence of our bikes’ growl making the air feel heavier. The only sounds left were the rustling leaves and the distant rumble of motorcycles closing in.

I swung off my bike, boots grinding against the gravel as I scanned the darkness. My pulse thudded in time with the approaching engines, the anticipation settling deep in my bones.

“They’re close,” Chain muttered, his expression hard. He stood next to Bolt, his fingers curled around the grip of his pistol, ready for shit to go sideways.

Devil stepped forward, solid as iron, his presence cutting through the anticipation like a whip. He raised a hand, a silent order to hold steady as the rival crew rolled in. Their bikes came to a stop in a crooked line across the road, a battered pickup parked behind them like a goddamn barricade.

Engines cut, but silence didn’t bring relief, it just made the air tighter, stretched thin with unspoken threats.

A stocky bastard with a scar carving down his jaw swung off his bike, his crew fanning out behind him like a pack of wolves. He took a slow step forward, the smirk on his face cocky, knowing.

“You boys lost?” His tone was laced with mockery, testing.

Devil didn’t blink. “Nope. You’re the ones in the wrong damn place. This road belongs to us.”

The man let out a slow chuckle, glancing back at his crew like we were a fucking joke. “That so? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, we’re here. And you’re outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered doesn’t mean outgunned,” Bolt said, his voice a low growl, dark with promise.

Devil’s eyes gleamed under the weak moonlight, a predator’s stare. “Here’s the deal. Leave the truck, turn your asses around, and ride the fuck out of here. That’s your one and only chance.”

The scarred man snorted, shaking his head like we were some dumbasses asking for a favor. “Not happenin’. You want the shipment? Gonna have to take it.”

Devil’s lips curved into something that wasn’t a smile. “That can be arranged.”

His hand lifted, a subtle signal, Thunder and Rune shifted, moving into position.

The smirk on Scarface’s lips wavered for half a second before he recovered, squaring his shoulders. “You think you scare me?” He spread his arms wide, taunting. “Bring it.”

It happened fast. One of his guys swung first, his fist connecting with Rune’s jaw, and all hell broke loose.

The night exploded with the sound of fists, grunts, and the scrape of knives and guns being drawn. I ducked as one of them came at me with a fucking wrench, his swing wild and unsteady. My knife was in my hand in an instant, and I drove the hilt into his ribs, sending him stumbling back with a wheeze.

Bolt was a blur of motion, slamming one guy into the side of the truck before landing a brutal punch that left him on the ground. Rune grappled with another, his movements precise and unrelenting. We had easily disarmed them of their guns, but they weren’t giving up.

A loud crash drew my attention—one of their bikes toppled as Thunder flipped a guy over the seat, leaving him sprawled and groaning.

The leader charged at Devil, swinging a chain. Devil dodged with ease, his expression cold as ice. He landed a punch that snapped the man’s head back, then grabbed him by the collar.

“This is your last chance,” Devil growled, his voice low and deadly. “Leave the shipment and run. Or stay and bleed. It won’t pain me to put a bullet in you.”

The man spat blood onto the dirt, his chest heaving. His eyes flicked to his crew—what was left of them. Beaten, staggering, barely holding it together.

“Fine!” he barked, rage bleeding into his voice as he raised his hands in surrender. “Take it! But this ain’t over.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” Devil snapped, shoving him back hard.

The bastard stumbled but didn’t push his luck. He turned, barking orders at his crew. They scrambled onto their bikes, engines growling as they hauled ass into the darkness, their battered truck abandoned like a carcass in the road.

We didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stood there, watching their taillights disappear into the night.

Bolt cracked his knuckles, his grin wide with satisfaction. “Fuckin’ cowards.”

“They’ll be back,” Rune muttered, rubbing his jaw where a fresh bruise was forming. “Cartel won’t let this slide.”

“Let ’em come,” Devil said, turning to the truck. His eyes burned with something deadly. “It’s Dragon Fire’s problem now. For us? We torch this shit.”

We moved without hesitation. The tarp ripped back, revealing the cargo we’d come for. I jammed my knife into a crate, prying it open. Bricks of powder stared back at me, pure, uncut poison meant for the streets.

Bolt grabbed the gas can, flipping the cap and soaking everything in sight. The fumes were thick, clinging to the night air. Thunder struck a match, his smirk mean as hell before he flicked it onto the pile.

The fire took instantly, roaring to life, greedy flames licking up the crates, devouring every last brick. Shadows twisted around us, our bikes painted in orange and gold as we watched the cartel’s profits turn to ash.

I swung my leg over my seat, gripping the handlebars as I glanced at Devil. The fire reflected in his eyes, making them glow like embers.

“They’re gonna come for us,” I said, my mind already looking ahead.

Devil didn’t even flinch. “So fucking be it,” he said, steady as stone. “But tonight? We sent a message. We don’t back down. Not ever.”

Engines roared to life, shattering the silence as we rolled out, leaving the fire behind—a warning that couldn’t be ignored.

And I knew, clear as the flames burning behind us, that whether we wanted a war or not, we sure as hell had one.

THE AIR OUTSIDE was thick with humidity, the night quiet except for the distant chirp of crickets and the faint murmur of voices from the clubhouse.

It was peaceful.

I’d stepped out to clear my head, needing space after everything with Ashlynn. Her words still rattled around in my brain, but I wasn’t about to let her—or anyone else—dictate how I lived my life.

I walked deeper into the woods, the trees closing in around me as the glow of the clubhouse faded behind. Leaning against a tree, I took a deep breath, staring into the darkness. The quiet should have been comforting, but something about it suddenly felt... wrong. Too still.

A faint rustle came from somewhere in the distance, and I froze, my senses sharpening.

“Hello?” I called softly, my voice steady despite the chill creeping up my spine. Maybe I shouldn’t have come so far into the woods after all.

No answer.

My hand instinctively moved to my pocket, fingers brushing against the switchblade I kept there.

“Relax,” a low, gravelly voice said, cutting through the silence and scaring the shit out of me.

I spun around, my heart pounding as a figure stepped out of the shadows. Tall and broad, his face was obscured in the darkness, but the voice was unmistakable.

Fang.

“Stay where you are,” I snarled, my fingers tightening around the knife’s handle.

He smirked, the faint glint of his teeth visible even in the dark. “Feisty as always, Lucy.”

My pulse quickened, but I held my ground. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk,” he said, holding his hands out as if he were harmless. The gesture was a lie; Fang was anything but harmless. “No need to get all worked up.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes. “Men like you don’t just show up to talk.”

His smirk widened, and he took a slow, deliberate step closer. “You’re not wrong. But I’m not here to hurt you—yet. Just wanted to remind you of a few things.”

I pulled the knife from my pocket, the blade clicking open with a flick of my wrist. “You take one more step, and you’ll find out exactly how feisty I can be.”

Fang laughed, the sound low and menacing, but he stopped, tilting his head as if weighing his next move. “You’ve got guts. That’s one of the reasons you’re made for me. But guts only get you so far, love.”

“If you come any closer, I’m going to scream this clubhouse down,” I warned, my voice cold and even.

He chuckled again but backed up a step, his posture still radiating danger. “Relax, Lucy. I’m here to give you a chance to do the right thing.”

“You’ve got five seconds to get the hell off this property,” I snarled, waving the knife in his direction.

Fang held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin as infuriating as ever. “Listen carefully, love. You and Zeynep had better find your way back—soon. If not, everyone in that clubhouse will die, and it’ll be your fault. I wouldn’t want anythin’ to happen to such a... spirited woman.”

His words made me gasp and I spun on my heel. I started running back toward the clearing, my heart hammering. Every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves sent a fresh jolt of fear through me. When I reached the clearing and glanced back, Fang was gone. He’d disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, like a ghost.

The door to the clubhouse creaked open behind me, and I spun around, tension still coiled tight in my chest. Spinner stepped out, his gaze immediately locking on me.

“Lucy?”

“Hey, Spinner, you’re back,” I said, forcing my voice to sound normal even as my heart raced. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about Fang—not yet. I was still trying to process what had just happened. It almost felt unreal.

“Did somethin’ happen while I was gone?” he asked, his tone showing his worry, picking up on my mood.

“No,” I said quickly, stepping closer to him. “I was just thinking... sometimes I get this way.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching mine. He didn’t believe me, not entirely. “Lucy, you’d never hold anythin’ back from me, would you?”

“Nothing that would make a difference in our relationship,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close. I needed him, needed the solid weight of him to ground me after the encounter with Fang.

I should tell him everything. But for the first time since I was a kid, I was afraid—afraid of losing someone who meant this much.

I HADN’T PLANNED on seeing her tonight. Hell, I hadn’t even planned on being seen. This was supposed to be about watching, waiting, learning their routines. But then Lucy wandered into the woods, her slim figure cutting through the darkness like a siren I couldn’t ignore.

No. I could never resist Lucy.

The second my eyes landed on her, I knew she wasn’t like the others. The first night she walked into the Dragon Fire Clubhouse, she had every head turning—and not just because she was beautiful. No, there was something else about her, something sharper. She wasn’t one of those cheap, easy bitches hanging off every brother with a patch. She had fire, a strength that burned in her eyes and made it clear she didn’t take shit from anyone.

And that’s why I knew she was mine.

None of the other bitches had ever been good enough to wear my patch, let alone stand beside me. But Lucy? She was different. She wasn’t my usual type, but that’s exactly why the others didn’t stand a chance. That night, she sealed her fate—whether she knew it or not. And though she’s fought me every step of the way, like the hellcat she is, it doesn’t change one simple fact: she’s mine.

But Spinner didn’t seem to get that fucking memo.

Word from inside The Devil’s House was that he wanted to claim her. My teeth clenched just thinking about it. Apparently, Lucy wasn’t fighting him the way she fought me. No, she was playing nice, cozying up to him like a bitch in heat.

She was supposed to bow to me like that.

It pissed me off.

Still, I stayed hidden as she moved deeper into the woods, farther from the safety of her little clubhouse. It was reckless, but it didn’t surprise me. Lucy always thought she could handle herself, even when it got her ass kicked.

When she froze, calling out into the darkness, her voice steady and unflinching, I almost smiled. That was Lucy—too proud, too stubborn to show fear, even when she should.

“Relax,” I said, stepping out of the shadows.

Her reaction was immediate, her body snapping into action as she spun to face me, knife in hand.

A hot as fuck she cat.

I took a step closer, testing her, watching the fire in her eyes spark brighter. She didn’t scream. Of course she didn’t. Screaming wasn’t her way. Screaming was for people who thought someone might save them. Lucy didn’t rely on anyone but herself. That’s one of the things I admired about her.

She threw sharp words at me, trying to push me back, but I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. The knife in her hand didn’t scare me. Hell, nothing about Lucy scared me—except the thought of not having her.

I wanted to take her then and there, drag her back where she belonged, but I wasn’t stupid. There was no way I could get her off this property without half the clubhouse tearing through the woods after me.

The timing wasn’t right.

So I did the next best thing. I planted the seeds, reminded her of the stakes, of what would happen if she didn’t come back. I saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes, even though she wouldn’t admit it. She knew I wasn’t bluffing.

When she turned and ran for the clearing, I chuckled low, following her for a few steps, just enough to make sure she was heading back to the clubhouse. Watching her retreat toward the light spilling from the doors, a twisted sense of loss curled in my chest.

I lingered in the shadows as the door creaked open, and there he was. Spinner. His eyes scanned the clearing before landing on her. I watched as Lucy walked up to him, her arms wrapping around his waist, holding him tight like he was her fucking man.

My hands clenched into fists as I slipped further into the darkness, rage and jealousy burning in my chest. Spinner didn’t deserve her, and he’d die for touching Lucy.

He couldn’t possibly understand how to handle a heated bitch like her.

She was mine.

I’d made sure of that in the rawest, most undeniable way possible.

And she’d do well to remember it.