Page 2 of Rookie's Shot
The compound gate is open when I get there. Not unlocked. Open. No one manning it.
My stomach folds in half.
I roll through slowly, scanning the yard.
Ellie's car. Sarah's sedan. Tildie's little hatchback. Porter's truck is gone—he rode out with the others.
So did Ruger, Ounce, Maddox, Coin, Bracken, Daemon, and Wraith.
The entire officer line and most of the full patches, all headed to a warehouse on the south side of town for a joint op with the Grim Vultures.
The women are here. The girls are here… and the gate is wide open.
I park and swing off the bike, boots hitting gravel too loud in the silence.
Through the clubhouse window, I can see movement. Figures gathered. Tense postures.
Ellie is the first one out the door, reading my face before I've said a word.
Sarah, Tildie, and Kinsey follow.
Wrenleigh and Sadie Jo hover in the doorway behind them. Coin's girls. Fifteen and almost thirteen. Barefoot in pajamas.
"Any word?" My voice comes out scraped raw.
Tildie shakes her head. "Nothing. What's happened?"
I run a hand through my hair hard enough to sting my scalp. "I was supposed to meet them at the checkpoint. They never showed. Tried calling—no answer. None of them."
Sarah's voice is steady. Steadier than mine. "Could they have changed routes?"
"Maybe." Even I don't believe it. "But Prez was clear about checking in. Something's not right."
The words hang in the air for maybe ten seconds before another engine breaks the silence.
Louder than mine. Faster. Coming up the drive like the road personally offended it.
Bloodhound kills his bike in the middle of the yard, doesn't bother with the kickstand, and lets the Harley drop sideways into the gravel as he swings off.
His face is a mask carved from stone and fury.
Every set of eyes locks onto him.
"We've been played." Three words. They land like grenades.
Ellie speaks first. "What do you mean?"
"Warehouse was empty. No Striker, but the Vultures showed. Striker left a fuckin' note." Bloodhound's eyes sweep the group,landing on Tildie. His jaw flexes once. "'Goodbye, nephew. By the time you read this, I'll have what I came for.'"
Tildie goes white. "Marco's coming here."
"Already on his way." Bloodhound doesn't soften it. "Viper was the one to warn us. Striker's been playing both sides longer than anyone thought. Signals are jammed. I broke off to get here while Ounce and the others try to circle back."
The compound goes from still to electric in the space of a breath.
And somewhere in the back of my skull, behind the adrenaline and the fear, a thought starts forming. Small at first. A whisper.
The warehouse op. The joint operation with the Vultures.
