Chapter 9

Smoke lingered in the air as Jaxon strode through the ashes of what was once their clubhouse. His boots crunched over shards of glass and charred debris, fury simmering in his gut at the sight of the devastation.

This was the Wolverines’ doing. Again.

“Bastards are pushing into our territory more each day,” Slick said, joining Jaxon’s side. “Something’s gotta give before this feud tears us apart.”

Jaxon sighed, running a hand over the scruff on his jaw. They’d been at each other’s throats for as long as he could remember, warring over land, power, reputation. Every few months, a new flare of violence would erupt, a vicious cycle that left them with little more than bitterness and bloodshed.

He thought of the young prospect who’d died in the last shootout, the light fading from his eyes even as Jaxon tried to staunch the flow of blood. They couldn’t go on like this.

“We need to end this,” he said. “Once and for all.”

Memories flashed in his mind of past confrontations, each more violent than the last. The raid on their warehouse five years ago. The brutal attack at the strip club that had nearly killed one of their own. And now this—the charred remains of the place they called home.

Slick’s eyes glinted. “You want to hit them hard? Hit them where it really hurts.”

“It’s the only way they’ll listen.” Jaxon curled his hands into fists, rage and grief tangling into steely resolve. The Wolverines would pay for this. He’d make sure of it.

“Just say the word,” Slick said.

Jaxon stared at the ruins of the clubhouse, seeing the ghosts of better times. They couldn’t go back, but they sure as hell could go forward. “Do it,” he said, jaw clenched. “Let’s end this damn war once and for all.”

This was a declaration of war.The Wolverines had crossed a line this time, and there would be no going back.

He thought of the young prospect who’d been inside, the kid they’d taken under their wing and treated as one of their own.His hands curled into fists at the memory of the boy’s laughter, the light in his eyes as he’d talked about his dreams for the future.Gone, all of it gone, reduced to ashes and bone.

Jaxon’s knuckles ached with the force of his anger.They would pay for this. He would personally see to it that the Wolverines paid in blood.If that was the only currency they understood, he’d give it to them in spades.

Jaxon stared at the ruins of the clubhouse, grief and purpose twining together into a cold, hard resolve.“Gather the others,” he said.“We end this tonight.”

The Wolverines had started this war, but he would be the one to finish it.They could burn his clubhouse, but they would never break his spirit.He would fight to his last dying breath to protect his own.

Tonight, the Wolverines would learn the meaning of vengeance.

Rachel stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “You can’t seriously be thinking of retaliation. This has gone too far already, and more violence will only lead to greater destruction.”

Jaxon’s gaze hardened. “They came after us on our own ground. We can’t let that stand.”

“You could be killed,” she said. “All of you. Hasn’t there been enough death already?”

His lieutenants exchanged uneasy glances, the memory of the Molotov cocktail fresh in their minds. They’d already lost one of their own tonight. None of them wanted to lose their president, too.

Jaxon’s hand curled around Rachel’s arm, his touch gentler than his tone. “I won’t ask you to come with us, but I can’t back down from this. My men are counting on me.”

“Your men need you alive,” she said. “I need you alive, Jaxon. Please don’t do this. We’ll find another way to handle the Wolverines, a smarter way.”

For a long moment he was silent, torn between his duty as president and his feelings for the woman in front of him. In the end, there was only one choice he could make.

“This is bigger than us, Rachel. My club needs to see that we stand up for our own.”

She jerked away from him, eyes bright with anger and fear. “If you do this, you’ll be starting a war.”

His chest tightened, but he kept his face impassive. “You do what you have to do.”

As she strode away without another word, he turned to his lieutenants. “Mount up.”

The coming battle might cost him the woman he loved, but some things were more important than one man’s happiness. The Green Devils came before everything else. Tonight he would remind the Wolverines of that fact, even if it was the last thing he did.

The rumble of engines shattered the peace of dusk as Jaxon led his lieutenants and a dozen patched members down the winding mountain roads toward the Wolverines’ compound. Rachel’s parting words echoed in his mind with every twist of the throttle, a grim refrain he couldn’t escape.

You’ll be starting a war you can’t possibly win.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the route ahead. They’d taken these back roads enough times to know every blind curve and hidden turn, but tonight he was on high alert. The Wolverines were expecting retaliation for the Molotov cocktail they’d lobbed at the clubhouse, and there was no telling what traps they might have set along the way.

His gaze scanned the thick forest crowding in on either side of the road, alert for any sign of movement in the deepening shadows. But the trees stood silent and still, cloaking secrets behind their gnarled branches. The only sound that broke the quiet was the roar of the bikes and the occasional call of a night bird in the distance.

After twenty minutes of hard riding, they emerged onto the outskirts of town, where a handful of businesses still boasted Green Devils stickers on their windows. Jaxon’s chest swelled with pride at the show of loyalty from Lenny’s Garage, Big Joe’s Biker Bar, and Luigi’s Pizza—the lifeblood of their territory. They’d stood by the club through good times and bad, and tonight he would make sure no harm came to them.

The Wolverines had made a bold move attacking the clubhouse, but they were about to learn that the Green Devils weren’t going down without a fight. The feud between them might just have escalated into all-out war—but if that was what it took to protect what was theirs, so be it.

Jaxon gunned his bike forward into the night, rage and determination steeling his resolve. The Wolverines wanted a battle? They were about to get one.

Jaxon pulled up outside Lenny’s Garage, the familiar smell of oil and grease sharp in the chilly air. His gaze swept the length of the building, but everything appeared untouched. No signs of disturbance or damage. Still, he wouldn’t take any chances.

He killed the engine and dismounted, the rest of the group following suit behind him. “Fan out and check the perimeter. Look for any signs they’ve been here.”

His men fanned out without question, disappearing into the darkness to scout the area. Jaxon approached the garage entrance, one hand resting on the gun at his hip as he peered through the window into the dimly lit interior.

“All clear,” Ranger called, emerging from the shadows. The others echoed his confirmation, gathering once more in the pool of light spilling from the streetlamp overhead.

Jaxon nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It seemed they hadn’t made it this far into Green Devil’s territory yet—but that was only a matter of time. He knew the Wolverines and their bloodthirsty leader, Dom, wouldn’t stop until they’d left a trail of destruction in their wake.

“We need to shore up security at the clubhouse and here.” He looked to each of his lieutenants in turn. “I want round-the-clock patrols and eyes on the road leading out of town. If they so much as poke their heads into our territory, I want to know about it.”

“You got it, brother,” Ranger said. The others voiced their agreement and Jaxon felt a flash of pride in his men. They might be outgunned, but they weren’t outmatched—not when they had this level of loyalty and dedication.

The Wolverines had started a war, but the Green Devils would damn well finish it.