CHAPTER FOUR

Loki

As a club, we make our way down the back to where the stolen Rojas Cartel wine trucks are located. The ones we took from the Steel Serpent MC's clubhouse when we completely annihilated it to save Sadie and Haven.

It's also where we poached Wes.

He was a Serpent.

Our enemy.

But because he is Sadie's blood brother, and in the end, he helped us defeat them and save our people, so we took a chance on him. Honestly, he's been invaluable ever since. And right now, with us all walking toward the trucks we stole from Wes' old clubhouse, the ones Alpha and I have been working on quietly in the background since we brought them here, the plan I missed out on in the Chapel is slowly starting to formulate in my mind.

The Rojas Cartel has been a thorn in LA Defiance's side for years.

Ricco Rojas has practically been a ghost.

He never attacks with his people, only sending them to do his dirty work for him. And when he sent his men for us, he hit hard— multiple times.

First, with Poppy, Alpha's daughter, taking her and making us all think she was dead when he actually sent her to an assassin training facility. That had a snowball effect, including ending Alpha and Livvy's marriage. Livvy left the club, and Alpha spiraled for years—until he met Haven.

It left Rhyan with no confidence. She completely collapsed in on herself because she was babysitting Poppy when she was taken. Rhyan thought it was her fault all that time that Poppy was presumed dead—when she wasn't.

The club was in turmoil.

Our VP at the time, Swift, was an interloper. It felt like ever since the cartel came into our lives, everything went to shit.

They are the ones who ran and operated The Nest. They took all those young girls from their families—including Haven.

Ricco Rojas is the worst of the worst, and yet, we can never get near him.

But with access to their own trucks? Maybe, just maybe, we can.

Moving alongside Alpha as we march up to the Rojas Cartel wine trucks, I lean in close to his ear so no one can hear but him. "Is this Operation Trojan?"

Alpha smirks with a slight chuckle. "You really were daydreaming in Church, weren't you, brother?"

Letting out an exhale, I roll my shoulders. "Won't happen again, Pres."

He grips my shoulder, nodding his head. "I know Bea being here is throwing you off your game, but right now, Loki, I need you here. In this. With me. If we can pull off Operation Trojan, this could really help us. But if we fuck it up…" he leaves the words hanging in the air.

Swallowing heavily, I let out a long puff of air. "You sure you wanna trust a job this important to him?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Atlas, the asshole who is covered in mud, slop, and blood.

Alpha sighs, the weight of the burden heavy on his shoulders. "It's him or one of us… and I would much rather it be him."

Titling my head, I can't argue with him there. What Atlas is about to do is dangerous— driving straight-into-cartel-territory kind of dangerous.

I just don't think he realizes the extent of the job he has been given, and there's no way in hell we're going to tell him either.

"As much as I enjoy seeing Atlas looking like a pig, we're gonna need to hose him off before he gets in that truck. Otherwise, they'll suspect him instantly." I let out a small chuckle.

Alpha grins, raising his brow. "Shame… he suits the slovenly look."

Snorting out a laugh, I step forward, gesturing to Wes. "Prospect, grab that high-pressure hose. Make Atlas more presentable, will you?"

Atlas widens his eyes, Montana chuckles to himself, and Wes grabs the hose. "You got it, VP!" Wes draws out the hose, aiming the high-pressure nozzle toward Atlas while the rest of the guys stand back out of the way. Atlas clenches his eyes, and Wes lets it rip. The water slams Atlas straight in the chest, and he instantly falls back, flat on his ass. His hands flail about, trying to stop the barrage of water Wes drowns him in.

The rest of the guys cheer and laugh watching on while Alpha and I move to the rear of the wine truck to check everything is where it needs to be. I hoist the roller door up to see all the crates we have installed inside, ready to go with wiring coming out of the sides. The timing devices are set on my cell. I just need to go in and activate the explosives one by one so they're able to receive the ping when the time comes.

Turning to Alpha, my muscles are taut, and I crane my neck to try to ease the tension. "You sure you're ready to do this?"

Alpha clears his throat with a slight nervous tension. "We have the opportunity to do this now, Loki. It may be our only chance. We've gotta try. I have waited far too long to serve my vengeance on Ricco for what he did to my daughter, to my family, to my fucking club. Today, we make a stand. We make a statement! LA Defiance has been sitting, waiting, but now we're fucking fighting back with everything we have."

My chest floods with adrenaline, and I nod at my president. My friend. My mentor. We're not just a brotherhood, we're fucking family. And when Ricco hurt Alpha, he hurt us all. We may be doing this to seek vengeance for Alpha, but this is going to make us all feel fucking spectacular.

Gripping his shoulder, I grin at him, then hoist myself up into the back of the truck. "Give me a couple of minutes to switch them on, and we should be good to go. You just make sure Atlas is in a good headspace. That he doesn't know what happens when he gets there."

Alpha smirks, tilting his head. "I already have a story for him… let's do this!"

Smiling, I turn, making my way through the wooden crates to the front and squat at the first one to find the activation switch. I flick it on, and plug in the cord, seeing the light flash to green telling me the explosive is active. Letting out a nervous breath, I carefully walk to the next crate and repeat the process, then continue the process for all six. When I reach the end of the truck bed, I turn back, appreciating my handiwork, tilting my head. "You good girls better work for Daddy," I whisper into the ether, hoping like hell that luck is on our side.

Jumping down carefully from the truck, I slowly pull the rear roller door back down and lock it firmly in place. Then, I draw out my cell to check everything is working on the activation app. From what I can see, all six devices are registering and active.

Now, we just have to get them there without any accidents or without a certain driver going rogue. Walking back around the front of the truck, where everyone else is standing, waiting with a now-drenched Atlas, I give a quick head bob to Alpha, and he smirks.

"Okay, Atlas, we're good to go on our end. The coordinates are programmed into the GPS. All you have to do when you get there is say you have a shipment for Ricco from Tijuana, and they will let you into the compound to unload what's in the back of the truck."

Atlas chuckles. "And in the back of the truck is drugs, isn't it?"

Alpha shrugs. "Are you going to be able to drive the entire way without stopping and do this one run for us without wanting to sample the product if it is drugs? We know how much you enjoy that lifestyle."

Atlas lifts his chin. "After this one drug run, am I free to go… like you said?"

Alpha nods in reply. "Yep. I assure you, after this one run, you'll be free."

Atlas swipes his hand through his wet hair and nods. "Then let's get this show on the road."

We all glance at Montana, and a slow smile crosses his face as he helps Atlas get up into the driver's side of the truck.

Atlas glances down at Montana, his old foster brother, and huffs. "I get why you put me through all that shit with the pigs, Noah. What I did to your girl… having to detox these last few weeks has made me realize how fucked up I was. Thanks for giving me the chance to make this up to you."

Montana's fingers clench by his sides. It's easy to see he's struggling to listen to the bullshit Atlas is spinning, but he exhales and stands taller. "What you're about to do, Atlas, when it's done, it will make me feel better about our situation. You do this, see it through to the end, and then maybe you will have started to make it up to me. Just remember, we have eyes on you, so fuck it up, and that will all change."

Atlas nods his head. "All right. Through to the end," he repeats.

Montana grips Atlas' shoulder, then closes the truck door and steps back down onto the gravel. He turns to face us, a wave of relief flowing over his tense shoulders. "We following behind?" Montana asks.

Alpha signals for us to jump into the two black vans, the brothers separating into two groups. Alpha goes in one van, I take the other, and the rest of the brothers disperse between us.

Picking up my walkie, I signal to the other van. "Reaper Two, communications check for Reaper One. Come in, Reaper One? Over…" I talk, making sure I am switched to channel four.

Static noise grinds through the walkie system, and then Alpha's voice chimes back at me, "Reaper Two, this is Reaper One. We are go. I repeat, we are go. Over."

Smiling, I glance at Montana. "You ready for this, kid?"

He chuckles back at me. "So fucking ready."

Tilting my head, I switch the walkie-radio to channel one and pull out my handheld device to log into the internal camera inside the truck so I can see everything Atlas is doing. "Atlas, can you hear me?" I talk down the line. He jumps like he had no idea we could talk to him while he was inside the truck's cab. The idiot searches around for a few seconds trying to find the walkie, then eventually picks it up and presses the button to talk back.

"Hey, ahh, yeah, I'm here," he replies.

"Okay, the coordinates are in the GPS in front of you. Can you see them?" I ask.

He glances up, spotting the GPS on the dash and nods his head, having a quick study. "Yep! Got it."

"All right then, let's get moving," I instruct.

Atlas places the walkie on the seat beside him and moves to start the truck. He puts it into gear, and it begins to roll. Then, instantly, he stalls it.

I glance at Montana, and we both groan. "Fucking hell, this guy is a goddamn moron," I murmur.

Montana smirks, tilting his head. "Yeah, no shit," he growls under his breath as Atlas manages to get the truck started again and then pulls out onto the street, this time with a much smoother pass.

"Okay, Ink, take us out," I instruct. Ink starts the van, and we're off, following in behind Alpha's van.

The drive toward the cartel headquarters takes a little bit of time, especially with dipshit up ahead driving the truck like a fucking grandma. But by the time Atlas starts drawing closer to the location, another wave of static blasts over the walkie. Switching to channel four, I wait for the incoming instructions.

"Reaper Two, this is Reaper One. We're going to hang back from the perimeter. The location is coming up, so when the payload makes a left up here, we will fall back, and park along the street. I have vision inside the cab here too, so I can see what you're seeing, Reaper Two. Over."

"Understood, Reaper One. We will follow your lead. I await your signal. Over."

The line goes quiet, and as I glance out the front of our van, I spot Alpha's pull to the side of the road. Ink follows soon after, pulling our van off to the edge as well. Drawing in a long breath, I shift to the seat in the back of the van and pull out my device, watching Atlas from inside the cab. I switch on the volume so we can hear him, and the other guys crowd around me so we can all watch this unfold.

Montana slides in beside me, his knee bobbing up and down anxiously, and I give him a reluctant smile. "This is going to work… it has to." I try to calm his obviously racing thoughts.

He runs his fingers through his red hair. "Atlas has a way of fucking everything up. If he makes this situation with the cartel worse for us—"

I raise my brow at him, gesturing for him to stop. "Alpha and I have planned this out. We have been working on this shit for months behind the scenes. All Atlas has to do is get the truck inside the compound. After that, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to do because that is where we take over. We've got this, Montana."

He nods his head with a weak smile. "Then let's finally take out these cartel assholes and Atlas at the same fucking time."

A grin spreads across my face as I take out my cell, placing it on the bench seat beside me. Then, I turn back to the device in front of me, watching Atlas pulling up to the cartel compound gates. "Showtime. Let's see how he does."

My heart races as I gnaw on my bottom lip, hoping like hell we get this done. A guard looks up at the truck. Noting it's one of theirs, he runs a tracker tracer underneath the rig, and I tense, but it clears, and then the guard signals for Atlas to drive on through.

"Here we go," I murmur under my breath, sitting a little taller.

Atlas drives the truck through the compound over to where the other wine trucks are parked. At least he has the common sense to do that. He pulls the rig up, and instantly, a couple of cartel soldiers step up to his window, raising their guns.

He rolls down his window and plasters on a bright smile. "I'm here to drop off the shipment to Ricco from Tijuana," he states, exactly as we told him to.

The cartel guys look at each other, furrowing their brows. "We were told that shipment was delayed by a couple of days, so how the fuck did you make up that much distance?" The soldier aims his gun right at Atlas, but he chuckles, shaking his head, and shifts the gun from his face like he doesn't give two shits.

"Who the fuck told you it was delayed?" he snaps.

"Jorge back in Tijuana. He told us you got the delivery onto the truck late, and then there was an issue with a flat tire along the way?"

Atlas snorts out a laugh, rolling his shoulders. "Fucking Jorge doesn't know what the hell he's talking about half the time. The guy's too busy smoking the stuff to really know what is going on . Am I right?" Atlas takes the conversation into a life of its own. The problem is these cartel guys can smell a rat a mile away.

The other cartel soldier signals to more of their men, and they begin walking over to the truck, Atlas' eyes widen, beginning to show a little of the fear clearly seeping through him.

The soldier he has been talking to lifts his gun again, his eyes narrowing on Atlas. "Is there a reason why you're wet inside that truck?" he asks.

Atlas glances down, seeing his clothes still completely soaked from when we sprayed him down with the hose, and he chuckles. "I pulled over to get some snacks back near Anaheim, and would you believe it, a freak fucking rainstorm hit. Drenched me completely as I was walking back to the cab."

I snort out a laugh while the other guys smirk. "This asshole has an answer for everything." I snicker, and Montana huffs.

"That's why he ended up as the leader of a drug gang. The gift of the gab."

We all nod as the soldier grins, looking at his fellow cartel members before they begin to corral around the truck. In the distance from the warehouse, I see a door open and a man walking toward them. His suit is immaculate, and his stance is full of arrogance, while another two men flank him. My eyes widen, and my pulse instantly skyrockets. I rush to pick up my walkie, checking to ensure it's on channel four. "Reaper One, are you seeing this? Over," I blurt down the line, some franticness about my tone.

The rest of the guys stare at the screen, the tension in the air reaching a critical level as we all stare at the man himself.

Static cracks over the walkie, and heavy breathing follows. "Reaper Two, I see and can confirm our target. Hold steady for the signal. Over."

My muscles tense as Ricco Rojas steps up in front of Atlas' truck, not making any contact with Atlas, simply letting his men continue their interrogation as he stands back. His men flanking his sides.

The soldier outside Atlas' door positions the tip of his gun, more toward Atlas' head now in a threatening gesture. "You got caught in a rainstorm… in LA… in July?" the soldier clarifies.

Atlas chuckles, waving it off like it's no big deal. "Yeah, it was crazy weird. Anyway, you guys seem tense. You want to maybe unload this big boy, and then I'll be on my way?"

The soldier glances across at Ricco, and he dips his chin. "Let this idiot open it up. Tell me what's really in there," Ricco orders, folding his arms across his chest in anger.

Atlas widens his eyes. "You think there isn't drugs back there?" he asks.

Ricco chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't know who you are, but my men in Tijuana would never hire an idiot like you. So whatever surprise is waiting in there, I'm going to let you find out for me."

Anxiety ripples through me, wondering just how long Alpha is planning to let this go on. But Atlas steps out of the truck, the camera inside doing me no good while he and the soldiers are walking around to the rear. The only thing I can see is Ricco standing right where he is—in front of the truck, with his guards on either side of him.

The pinhole cameras at the back kick in, and I switch the view to multiple screens so Alpha and I can watch Ricco at the front and everyone else at the rear. Atlas stands at the back of the truck, the soldier pressing his gun into his back and urging him forward. "Open the damn door!"

Atlas grumbles something unintelligible under his breath while I hold mine. He reaches up for the door, my stomach tightens, and I grit my teeth as he slides the door up, revealing the six crates.

Atlas doesn't even look inside. He just waves his hands around aimlessly and laughs. "See! I bet you guys feel like assholes now, right?"

I see it in the soldier's eyes the second it registers exactly what the crates are. I grab for the walkie, my cell in my other hand ready to go, and the crackle blasts down the line. "Deploy, deploy, deploy!"

I toss the walkie across the van. It narrowly misses South as I code in the sequence for the explosives. The light goes green, but I know it's going to take a second for them to register. I glance back up at the video to see the soldiers begin backing away.

"Boss, run! It's a fucking bomb!" one of them calls out.

Atlas turns to face the inside of the truck, his eyes turning somber, but the resignation on his face hits him. He has nowhere to go. He simply smiles and steps up inside the back of the truck, sitting down beside one of the crates. "Checkmate, Montana. Checkmate." He chuckles under his breath.

I have a millisecond to see Montana smiling before I watch the soldiers and Ricco scrambling to get away from the truck. Glancing at my cell, my heart leaps into my throat when the light flashes green, and my breath catches.

The flash of light on my video feed is the first thing I see. I snap my head down to watch when, a second later, the most ferocious, ear-piercing explosion rocks through the air. "Holy shit," my words come out as a whisper on my breath, when suddenly a hurricane force of wind slams into the side of our van, rocking it too-and-fro, the glass in the windows shattering on impact. We all duck for cover from the shockwave caused by the truck explosion.

Panting and fighting for breath as the shockwave rips through my body, making it hard for me to breathe, I glance over at my brothers to make sure they're all right, patting each one of them to ensure they're still alive. They all nod as we slowly rise to our feet. My ears are slightly ringing from the sound of the detonation.

Letting out a small laugh, I check my equipment. None of the cameras are working. They've all been destroyed by the blast radius. I clear my throat and sit taller. "Is everyone still with me?" I ask.

The guys all nod, and I pick up the walkie. "Reaper One, you good?"

Then suddenly, an urgent banging sounds on our back door. We all snap our heads to the rear of the van. It's completely blacked out back here. We have no clue who is out there. So I pull out my gun and move forward, signaling to South and Maverick to flank me.

Without saying anything, I gesture to them that I'm about to open the door, and they nod, ready to attack if we need to. I swing the door open, instantly aiming my gun, but as soon as the person steps into sight, he pushes the gun out of his face. "Calm down, VP. It's just us," Alpha states.

I jump from the van, letting the rest of my brothers follow me. "That was pretty fucking intense," I tell him.

Alpha smirks with a shrug. "You built the bombs, Loki. You should have known they were going to get the job done."

"Well, we still don't know how well they did. And there's only one way to find out."

Alpha tilts his head toward the compound. "And that's exactly what we're going to do next. Boys, mount up, we're going cartel culling."