Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“Got word from our contact in Tennessee,” Rex says. He doesn’t bother to sit. He stands like a judge, eyes flicking to me, then to Axel, then back to the map. “There’s movement near the border. Salentino is making his way here.”
Toon curses, low and ugly. Axel just folds his arms and stares. I glance at the map. There’s a dot near Waynesboro, another on an old mining trail. Trouble’s coming fast.
Rex’s eyes land on me. “You ran that last shipment clean. I want you to head up the recon.”
“Alone?” I ask, not because I’m scared but because nobody does recon alone, not anymore.
“Take two. Your call.” Rex’s voice is final. I nod. That’s what I do now. I lead. I make choices. And this time, I’ve got more than the club to come back to. I’ve got her.
Toon is a no-brainer. He’s steady, quick, and meaner than a rabid wolf when you need him to be. Axel, I hesitate. Old habits die hard. But if this recon goes south, I want a man who won’t blink when I say shoot. Axel’s my brother—has been all my life, and lately he’s been showing up for me and Cambria like no one else. We may not always see eye to eye, but there’s no one I’d rather have at my back when the bullets start flying.
We prep before dawn, moving through the motions with a practiced quiet. Bikes checked, weapons cleaned, burners charged, radios and batteries stowed. No Hellions colors today—just dark denim, black leather, and the scent of nerves burning under the skin. Toon checks his pistols, Axel fits a new set of magazines in his bag, and I line up my knives just the way I like them, steel to bone, habit dad taught us both when we would hunt as kids.
Cambria finds me in the back of the garage, just as I’m tightening the last strap on my saddlebags. While I haven’t told her details, I did tell her we had to go assess the threat. Rex told Axel that was what needed to be said to Yesnia and the same could be shared with Cambria.
“You’re sure it’s not a trap?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest. There’s worry in her eyes, but not fear. She’s brave. Braver than I’ve ever been.
“No,” I admit. “But if it is, I want to be the one walking into it, not sending someone else.” I touch her hand. “I’ll come back.”
It’s not a question for her. It’s a promise. The kind that I’ll give in blood.
“Good,” she says. Her jaw’s tight, her voice softer than she means it to be. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come looking.”
I laugh, and it feels good, even now. “You’ll come looking, that is one thing I’m sure of .”
She gives me a crooked smile, and for a moment, the world is simple again. Just a man and a woman and the future they want.
I’m coming back for her. No more hiding, no more half-promises. When I get back, I’m going to put a ring on her finger and make her mine, for real. Permanent. No court, no priest—just the two of us and the life we’re carving out from the dirt.
The ride into Tennessee is a blur of backroads and muscle memory. We keep off the main highways, carving through shadowed woods and old mining trails only smugglers and moonshiners know. My bike vibrates beneath me, a living thing, engine snarling with every mile. Toon rides beside me, silent but alert, eyes scanning every driveway, every turn. Axel brings up the rear, always watching.
Every bend feels dangerous. Every ridge could be an ambush. There’s a hum in my blood—a mix of fear and purpose, old ghosts and new oaths.
By the time we hit our first contact, a run-down gas station with a flickering neon sign and an ancient dog sleeping under a rusted-out Chevy, we’ve seen two suspicious trucks, shadowy figures in the rearview, and picked up chatter on the scanner we don’t recognize. The old nerves are back, but sharper, cleaner. I’m not afraid. I’m ready.
Curtis meets us behind the building, visor down, smoke clinging to his lips like a curse. He flicks it to the ground, grinding it under his heel.
“Salentino is moving in,” he says. “Not full force, but enough. They’re sniffing around weapon dealers west of Waynesboro.”
“What for?” Toon asks.
Curtis shrugs. “Rumor is, they want to move back into arms. New revenue stream. Idea came from Salentino’s son. Young, dumb, hungry.”
Axel glances at me. “That ain’t good.”
Curtis grins. “No shit.”
We get what we can—names, radio freqs, a rumor about a buy going down in two days—and keep moving.
The second contact’s a truck stop just off the main drag, abandoned long enough for the weeds to come up through the concrete. There’s a car parked near the sign, black, tinted, engine cold. We approach with caution. Toon swings wide, Axel circles left, I go straight in. Heart pounding.