Page 70 of Turmoil's Target

“Shit,” I breathe, cold dread settling like a stone in my gut. “The last time we talked, I mentioned a couple things about growing up. Nothing major, but...”

I trail off, seeing the same grim understanding in the others’ eyes.

Damon drags a hand through his hair, mouth pressing into a thin line. “So that’s it then. All the work we put into this, the chance to finally get some solid intel on her operation. Down the fuckin’ drain because you got sloppy.”

His words hit like a punch to the jaw, but I can’t even argue.

He’s right. I failed the club.

I let my guard down and jeopardized the whole play we’ve been setting up for months. Disappointment crashes over me in a suffocating wave.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, forcing myself to meet Damon’s steely gaze head on. “I know I fucked up. But my only intention was to make this successful.”

“Save it,” he cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head. “Doesn’t matter now. What matters is figuring out our next move before this shit catches up to bite us in the ass.”

Dixon’s eyes narrow as he leans forward, elbows braced on the scarred tabletop. “There’s another possibility we gotta consider. That the leak came from our end, not yours.”

I frown, not tracking his meaning for a second.

Then it clicks.

Jolt demands, voicing the ugly suspicion. “You sayin’ we might have a rat?”

“I’m saying we can’t rule it out,” Dixon replies evenly. “Information’s been like a sieve lately. That deal with the Colombians last month. The shit with Hopper’s kid. Too many things slipping through the cracks.”

I don’t even know half of what they’re talking about, but it’s not surprising since we haven’t been at the club.

A grim silence descends as we all chew on that thought.

The idea that one of our brothers could be selling us out, stabbing the club in the back... it ties my stomach in knots.

But Dixon’s right.

If there is a rat in our midst, we need to sniff the fucker out before they start fucking up more of our shit.

Damon blows out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, I’ll put some quiet feelers out, see if anything turns up on that front. In the meantime, we proceed as planned. Turmoil, you’re officially done with the bitch until we get this sorted. Keep your distance.”

I clench my jaw but nod stiffly. In my eyes she isn’t a bitch.

As much as it guts me to cut ties with Seraphina, especially after the unbelievable connection we shared, I know it’s necessary.

For her safety as much as the club’s.

When shit dies down though, I’m going to show her just how much she means to me.

I rub my temples, a dull throb building behind my eyes.

This whole situation is one giant clusterfuck, and I’m not sure how we’re gonna untangle it.

But one thing’s for damn sure—I’m not letting Seraphina get caught in the crossfire.

Whatever it takes, I’ll find a way to shield her from the fallout.

Jolt drums his fingers on the table, mouth twisting wryly. “So just to recap—we’ve got a potential rat in the ranks, Turmoil has to kick the finest piece of ass in Vegas to the curb, and I’m naturally guessing that our financial situation isn’t gettin’ any better. That about sum it up?”

“Jesus,” I groan, slumping back in his seat. “Please tell me there’s some good news buried in this steaming pile of shit.”

Dixon chuckles, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well, Doc is gonna be a daddy.”

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