Page 8 of Judge's Justice

**BRICK:** *15 out. Northern route, right?*

**JUDGE:** *Yeah. Standard patrol pattern. Vipers might try to send more scouts.*

**BRICK:** *Copy. You staying on Oak Street?*

**JUDGE:** *Yeah.*

**BRICK:** *You good?*

I look at the darkened house. At the small porch and the locked door and the two people inside who have no idea what they just walked into.

**JUDGE:** *No. But I will be.*

**BRICK:** *Call if you need backup.*

**JUDGE:** *Will do.*

I put the phone away and settle in to wait.

The night is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes my bad ear ring and my shoulders tense because I know what quiet means. Quiet means something's coming. Quiet means the world's holding its breath before it all goes to hell.

I've been sitting here for two hours. Brick checked in twice. Phoenix once. Nothing's moved on Oak Street except a cat that skulked across the road and disappeared into someone's backyard.

But I can't shake the feeling.

That Viper's probably back at the clubhouse by now. Telling Demon everything. About me. About Nora. About the fact that the Iron Phoenix VP is protecting a random woman who just got into town.

Demon's smart. Ruthless. He'll see the angles I'm seeing.

Option one: Nora's connected to the club somehow. Friend, family, old lady of one of my brothers. Which makes her leverage.

Option two: She's not connected, but I protected her anyway. Which makes me look weak. Sentimental. The kind of man who'd sacrifice tactical advantage to save a stranger.

Both options make her a target.

I pull out my phone and scroll to her number. My thumb hovers over it. I should call. Should warn her. Should tell her that she needs to pack up and leave Millhaven before this gets worse.

But where would she go?

She just got here. She's running from something. I could see it in every line of her body, hear it in the way her voice shook when she said she just wanted somewhere safe and quiet.

And I'm about to tell her she picked the wrong town.

I don't call.

Instead, I get off the bike and walk the perimeter of the property. Check the windows—all locked. Check the back door—locked. The yard is small, fenced, and there’s no easy access from the neighbors. Good. Defensible.

If the Vipers come, they'll have to come through the front. And they'll have to go through me first.

I'm walking back to the bike when I see movement in the front window. Just a shadow. Just the curtain shifting slightly.

She's awake. Watching.

I stop. Look up at that window. Can't see her face, can't see anything but the vague outline of a person standing there, but I know it's her. For a second I think about waving. About signing something. About doing anything to acknowledge that I see her, that she's not alone.

But I just stand here. Let her see me. Let her know I'm still here.

The curtain falls back into place.