Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Guess you finally found your calling, princess,” I grunted, snatching the bag from his hand.
Deviant smirked, completely unfazed. “Keep fuckin’ around, Wrecker, and you’ll be eating through a straw.”
“Get fucked.”
“Already did.” His amused grin faded to a serious look. “Fox called a meeting. And before you ask—yeah, he means now. Don’t make him come drag your ass out.”
“Gimme a fucking minute,” I snarled.
“Try not to rip anyone’s face off on the way down.” He tossed the last word over his shoulder as he started down the hall.
“Depends on who’s in my fucking way,” I grunted, slamming the door shut.
When I turned back around, Peyton was still leaning against the wall, chest heaving and her lashes lowered like she was trying to process what the hell just happened.
I didn’t let her see the frustration bleeding out of me as I walked back to her. I just brushed a kiss over her mouth and lifted her onto the bed. "Rest, baby. I’ll be back soon."
She nodded, dazed.
I hated leaving her. But I wasn’t about to keep Fox waiting. Still, I left the room with fury simmering just beneath the surface.
When I stalked into my prez’s office, he was seated behind his desk, eyes sharp as ever. Maverick leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. Most of our other officers and a few enforcers were scattered throughout the room, tension lacing the air.
Hawk, Storm, Midnight, and Nevada were seated at the round conference table.
"’Bout fuckin’ time," Whiskey grunted. “Thought maybe you’d gotten swallowed whole.”
“Still might,” I muttered, dropping into the seat beside him.
Nevada smirked. “So I’m guessin’ you forgot how to work your phone cause your face was buried and your brain shot to hell.”
“You got a death wish?” I asked, voice low. “Or just bored of breathing?”
Viper barked a laugh. "You wanna keep all your teeth, Nevada, I’d shut the fuck up.”
I nodded at him, sprawled on the old couch in the sitting area. Inferno and Racer took up the overstuffed chairs across from it.
Fox cleared his throat. "Enough. We’ve got business."
The jokes stopped, just like that. When Fox spoke, everyone listened.
He gave a rundown of a couple of minor club issues—nothing urgent. Then he turned to me. "Deviant filled me in on some of it, but I want to hear everything. Tell me about Peyton."
I laid it all out. The garage, her research, the collapse patterns. I told them about her thesis, how she’d been digging too deep and got herself noticed. The minute I mentioned shoddy materials and the signs of charges, every man in the room sharpened. Like predators scenting blood.
"You think she was targeted?" Fox asked.
"Yeah. She was askin’ questions someone didn’t want answered. And those buildings? They didn’t fall on their own. Some of ’em were rigged. I’d bet my patch on it."
Deviant nodded. "I’ve started tracing permits and supplier invoices. Already flagged a couple of anomalies."
Fox leaned back, gaze heavy. "Then we hit this from all angles. Legal, digital, boots on the ground. Stone’ll handle any legal pressure. Deviant, keep digging. The rest of you—eyes open. If anyone comes sniffing around, I wanna know."
I looked around the room and felt something settle in my chest. Not peace. Not calm. But purpose. These men—my brothers—weren’t just lethal. They were loyal. This was blood, just not by birth. We weren’t clean, but we had limits, honor, and a code. Our own brand of justice.
In certain circles, it was well-known that we protected those who couldn’t protect themselves by any means necessary. And when it called for blood, we made sure justice bled out on the floor.
They’d have my back on this.
When the meeting broke, I jumped to my feet, ready to get back to Peyton, but Hawk grinned like he’d been waiting the whole meeting just to run his mouth. “Runnin’ off to take care of your woman?”
I sighed, knowing what was coming. And that I deserved it.
He barked a gruff laugh. “You talked all that shit when I fell for Gemma. What was it you said? That I was whipped so hard I squeaked when she looked at me?”
I scratched my jaw and let out a grunt. “Yeah. And turns out I was a fuckin’ idiot.”
A few of the guys laughed, low and rough. Maverick shook his head, a ghost of a smile cutting across his usually unreadable face.
“Hell,” Hawk said, his mouth curved smugly. “Didn’t think I’d live long enough to hear you admit that.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I growled.
Racer stood and walked over to stand by Fox’s desk, shit-eating grin in place. “So we calling it now? Wrecker’s officially owned.”
The room went still for half a second—just long enough for Fox to cut in, voice calm and cool with steel underneath. “Careful, Racer. One more word like that, and you’ll be eating it.”