Page 19
Tempest
The roar of motorcycles faded as we approached the cartel’s hideout, slowing our pace. Once we stopped, the silence that followed was thick with tension. I raised my fist, signaling my team to wait. My heart pounded, a steady drumbeat of anticipation.
“Eyes sharp,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “One wrong move, and we’re fucked.”
The rough side of town stretched before us, a maze of dilapidated buildings and shadowy alleys. Perfect for an ambush. I scanned our surroundings, every muscle coiled tight, ready to spring into action. Once we’d informed Chief Daniels the cartel was lurking here and out for blood, he’d guaranteed we’d have the time we needed to clean this up. Without worrying about the involvement of the local law. Sometimes it was good to have a police chief who had family in a club.
The cul-de-sac loomed ahead, a hive of criminal activity. From what we’d discovered, they’d taken over all four houses. I just hoped like fuck our intel was correct. I didn’t need any damn surprises. My jaw tightened as I spotted the first line of cartel guards, their weapons glinting in the dim streetlights.
Bastards won’t know what hit them .
I gestured to my team, watching with grim satisfaction as they fanned out, taking their positions with practiced precision. Pride swelled in my chest, tempered by the weight of responsibility. As Sergeant-at-Arms, their lives were in my hands.
“Remember,” I murmured, locking eyes with each of my brothers. “No hesitation. No mercy.”
They nodded, faces set with determination. I took a deep breath, steadying the rage that always simmered just beneath the surface. Tonight, I’d unleash it.
With a sharp nod, I gave the signal. The air erupted with gunfire, shattering the night’s silence. I surged forward, my weapon an extension of my arm, my anger fueling each shot.
“For our fallen!” I roared, my battle cry echoing through the streets.
Chaos engulfed us, bullets whizzing past as we pushed deeper into enemy territory. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
This is what I was made for.
A cartel guard appeared in my sights. I pulled the trigger without hesitation, watching him crumple to the ground. No time for remorse. Only survival.
“Tempest!” one of my brothers shouted. “On your six!”
I spun, narrowly avoiding a bullet that grazed my cheek. The sting of it only fueled my rage. I returned fire, my aim true and deadly.
As we advanced, the weight of my role pressed down on me. Every decision, every life lost or saved, rested on my shoulders. But I’d be damned if I let the cartel win.
Not today. Not ever.
Savior’s voice crackled through my earpiece, sharp and authoritative. “Tempest, watch your left flank. Wire’s picking up movement.”
I pivoted, scanning the shadows. Sure enough, two cartel thugs emerged, guns blazing. I ducked behind a rusted-out car, bullets pinging off the metal.
“Copy that,” I said, my heart pounding. “Saint, we need cover fire on the east side.”
“On it,” Saint’s voice came back, calm despite the chaos. “Wire, got eyes on any snipers?”
A burst of static, then Wire’s analytical tone cut through. “Thermal’s showing two heat signatures on the roof, northwest corner. Could be spotters or shooters.”
I processed the info, my mind racing. “Boneyard, take those roof rats out. Prophet, Tank, Venom, and Stone, with me. We’re pushing forward.”
Gritting my teeth against the pain in my cheek, I signaled and we moved as one, a well-oiled machine of violence and vengeance. Even though Venom didn’t remember a lot of things, he was still a Reaper down to his soul, and I knew I could rely on him. But his woman would lose her shit if he got hurt again.
The air was thick with gun smoke and screams. I fired, reloaded, fired again. Each shot was for our club, for our family.
“Tempest.” Savior’s voice filled my ear again, urgent this time. “Wire’s picked up chatter. They’re calling in reinforcements from the south.”
“Shit,” I muttered, ducking as a bullet whizzed past my ear. “Saint, can you send someone to intercept?”
“Negative,” Saint replied, frustration evident. “Everyone’s actively fighting or pinned down.”
My mind raced, anger threatening to cloud my judgment. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. “Wire, how long till they arrive?”
“They’re coming in from the surrounding homes. They’re already there.”
We were outnumbered, outgunned, and running out of time. But giving up wasn’t an option. Not for me, not for the Dixie Reapers, or the other clubs fighting with us.
“Listen up,” I said into the comm. “We’ve got to end this. Hit ‘em hard, hit ‘em fast. No prisoners, no mercy.”
With renewed fury, we surged forward into the fray, the fate of our families hanging in the balance.
As we pressed forward, my eyes caught a flash of movement. Through the chaos, I spotted him -- a cartel bigwig barking orders, orchestrating the reinforcements. His crisp suit and air of authority stood out amidst the bloodshed.
“Cover me,” I said to Viking.
Without waiting for a response, I broke from our formation, weaving through the melee. Bullets zinged past, but I was focused, driven. This bastard was the key.
I vaulted over a smoldering car, landing in a crouch just yards from my target. Our eyes locked. In that moment, everything else faded away. It was just us -- predator and prey, though who was which remained to be seen.
He sneered, reaching for his weapon. “You’re out of your league, biker trash.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said, lunging forward.
Our bodies collided with brutal force. I felt the air rush from his lungs as we hit the ground. But he was no pushover. A vicious elbow caught me in the ribs, sending shockwaves of pain through my body.
I retaliated with a headbutt, feeling cartilage crunch beneath my forehead. Blood sprayed, but neither of us relented. We rolled, trading blows, each strike fueled by desperation and hate. I needed to make this fucker hurt! A quick death was too fucking good for him.
He managed to get a hand on his gun. Instinct took over. I grabbed his wrist, twisting savagely. The crack of bone was barely audible over the din of battle, but the agonized howl that followed was music to my ears.
“Not so tough now, are ya?” I taunted, my own voice rough with exertion.
He spat blood in my face. “Fuck you and your whole club. We’ll bury every last one of you.”
Rage surged through me, white-hot and all-consuming. I wanted to end him, to feel his life drain away beneath my hands. But we needed information. I needed to know how they’d found us and the Twisted Tides. Where had I fucked up?
Instead, I leaned in close, my voice a deadly whisper. “You first, asshole.”
The chaos around us intensified. Gunfire erupted in deafening bursts, punctuated by the sharp crack of explosions. Through the comms, I heard Saint’s voice, tight with tension.
“You’ve got incoming! At least a dozen more from the east!”
I risked a glance away from my captive. The street had transformed into a war zone. Smoke billowed from burning vehicles, obscuring visibility. My brothers fought with ruthless efficiency, but we were outnumbered.
“Hold the line!” I roared, hoping my voice carried over the din.
Beneath me, the cartel leader bucked, nearly dislodging my grip. I slammed him back down, pinning him with my full weight.
“You’re finished,” I growled. “Tell me where --”
A flash of movement caught my eye. Pure instinct took over.
I rolled, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets that tore into the pavement where I’d been kneeling. My captive wasn’t so lucky. He jerked and went still, caught in the crossfire.
“Shit!” I scrambled for cover behind a burnt-out car, my heart pounding. Where the hell had that come from? Had they killed one of their own on purpose?
Another burst of gunfire answered my question. A sniper, hidden in one of the upper windows. I was pinned down, exposed, with no clear shot.
“Wire!” I barked into my comm. “I need eyes on that shooter, now!”
The bullet sliced across my bicep, a line of fire that ignited every nerve. I hissed through clenched teeth, adrenaline dulling the worst of it. No time for pain. Not now.
“Second floor, northwest corner!” Wire said.
I took a steadying breath, letting the familiar rage fuel me. In one fluid motion, I pivoted from behind the car, my gun already raised. The world narrowed to my sights and the shadowy figure in the window.
Two shots. Clean. Precise.
The sniper’s rifle clattered to the street below. A beat of silence, then the thud of a body following.
“Target neutralized.” I scanned for any other immediate threats.
A low chuckle drew my attention. The cartel leader had dragged himself to his feet, blood seeping from a wound in his side. I’d thought for sure the fucker was dead, but no such luck. The fact he was standing wasn’t the issue. It was the gun in his hand making my blood run cold.
“Impressive, Tempest,” he sneered, leveling the weapon at my chest. “But this ends now.”
I didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with barely contained fury. He knew who I was. Sure, my name was on my cut, but I didn’t know if he’d read it while we fought, or if he’d looked into me beforehand.
We circled each other slowly, predators sizing up their prey. The sounds of battle faded to a dull roar in my ears. There was only us, locked in this deadly dance.
“Your little crusade ends here,” the leader taunted. “You have no idea what forces you’re messing with.”
I spat blood, never taking my eyes off him. “I know exactly what I’m dealing with. Scum like you, thinking you can come into our town and run things. You took my fucking wife! Your fucking men started this shit.”
His finger tightened on the trigger. “Unfortunate choice of target. I can admit as much. But you should have just let her go. Plenty of women out there. You’re in over your head. Last chance to walk away.”
A humorless laugh escaped me. “That’s not how the Dixie Reapers operate. We finish what we start.”
The tension crackled between us, a powder keg waiting for a spark.
The cartel leader’s eyes narrowed. He fired.
I twisted the moment I saw him squeeze the trigger, the bullet searing across my side. Pain exploded, but I channeled it into action. In one fluid motion, I closed the distance between us.
“Fuck!” I snarled, driving my fist into his solar plexus.
He doubled over, gasping. I wrenched the gun from his grasp, tossing it aside. My next blow caught him square in the jaw.
“That’s for thinking you could take our town,” I growled, following up with a vicious uppercut. “For taking my woman.”
The leader staggered, blood streaming from his split lip. He swung wildly, but his movements were sluggish. I easily dodged, retaliating with a swift kick to his knee.
As he crumpled, I seized the front of his shirt. “And this,” I hissed, “is for the Dixie Reapers. The men you’ve killed or injured.”
My final punch connected with a sickening crunch. The cartel leader slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, I surveyed the chaos around me. Gunfire still echoed, but it was sporadic now. Through the haze of smoke, I saw my brothers advancing, cartel members retreating or surrendering.
“Status report,” I barked into my comm.
“We’ve got the upper hand, Tempest,” Wire’s voice crackled. “They’re falling back on all fronts.”
A grim smile tugged at my lips. “Good. Let’s finish this.”
I took a step toward my team, ready to regroup and push our advantage. That’s when the world exploded.
The blast hit like a freight train, hurling me off my feet. My back slammed into something hard, knocking the wind from my lungs. Debris rained down, pelting my skin with stinging shrapnel.
“Fuck!” I gasped, struggling to breathe through the thick cloud of dust.
My ears rang, muffling the chaos around me. Blinking furiously, I tried to clear my vision, but everything swam in a hazy blur. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.
“Tempest!” Someone was shouting, their voice distant and distorted. “Tempest, report!”
I attempted to respond but only managed a ragged cough. My body felt like one massive bruise, every movement sending jolts of pain through my nerves.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move. Get up. Get the fuck up !
Slowly, agonizingly, I pushed myself to my knees. The world tilted dangerously, and I had to fight the urge to vomit. As the dust began to settle, I could make out shadowy figures moving through the wreckage.
“Wire,” I croaked into my comm. “What the hell was that?”
Static crackled, then Wire’s voice came through, tense and urgent. “IED, looks like. Bastards had a failsafe. Tempest, you need to move. Now!”
I staggered to my feet, swaying. That’s when I saw him -- a cartel member emerging from the smoke, pistol aimed squarely at my chest.
Our eyes locked. Time seemed to freeze.
“Well, shit,” I muttered, staring down the barrel of his gun.