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RAY

J oe’s Bar is packed, tension crackling through the air like static. It coats my tongue with the bitter sting of ash and adrenaline.

Every pack member is here—near, far, it doesn’t matter.

Not one of them is sitting. They’re clustering in small groups, whispering and waiting.

Sam leans next to me at the counter, arms crossed, scanning the room like he’s planning an assault.

Raul paces in front of the bar, nervous energy coming off him in waves. His mouth’s calm, but his body’s loud.

“Fifty-nine,” Gibbs reports from the doorway. “That’s all of us.”

Raul stops his pacing, facing the assembled pack. The soft chatter continues.

“Quiet!” he says, too loud, but silence falls instantly. “You know why we’re here. Mercer’s pack is camped outside Dawson.”

A groan ripples through the room. Raul lets it pass before speaking again.

“We offered them trust. Gave them peace and they betrayed us,” Raul says.

“They sacrificed one of their own just to make it look like Sammy was dead. In truth, they teamed up with humans who locked him in a goddamn cage. We took care of the humans, but the Mercers are still out there. So the question is—what do we do now?”

“Fight!” someone shouts before he even finishes.

“With all due respect,” Locksmith growls, stepping forward, “this isn’t peace—they’ve earned our hate.”

“They went after your family, Raul,” Kyle snaps, his voice raw. “How can you even hesitate?”

Raul lifts his chin. “This isn’t softness. It’s choice. So let’s make it official—war or peace?”

“WAR!” The word erupts like a thunderclap. Arms shoot into the air, voices layered with rage and righteousness.

Raul’s jaw tightens. He hates the answer—I can see it—but he nods. He asked. Now he has to follow through.

“Alright. Tonight, no warnings. We hit hard, hit fast, and we don’t leave loose ends. Midnight. When it’s done, come back here.”

The cheers swell so loud that they rattle the walls. Packmates slap each other’s backs. Some even hug. From the outside, it might look insane. Who celebrates a coming war? But I get it.

We’re not fighting strangers—we’re fighting those who once called us family. Who tricked us. Betrayed us. Hurt us—twice. This isn’t vengeance. It’s protection.

There’s no room for doubt. No forgiveness left to bleed.