Page 81 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“That’s more like it.” I keep the sharp steel against his neck as though I’m simply a barber giving him a shave. He gasps.

Mace flinches. “I heard Gunnar talking to someone—I don’t know who. He just promised me I’d move up if I helped him out.”

“Helped him with what?”

“Getting Hawk out of the club. But they said something about taking her—Izzy to the bluffs. There’s a cave there, hidden in the rocks. That’s all I know, I swear!”

I step back, my heart pounding. The bluffs. It makes sense. The perfect place to keep someone hidden, out of sight

“Where exactly, Mace?”

The knife digs deeper.

“H-here. I have the coordinates on my phone.”

I reach into his pocket, pulling out the cracked iphone. I unlock it with his face, as I don’t know his passcode.

“It’s in my notes,” he whimpers, tears collecting in his eye.Jesus Christ this one’s soft.

I memorize the number and slide the phone in my pocket, before I turn and head for the stairs, leaving Mace tied to the chair, his breathing heavy with relief and fear.

“Are you just going to leave me down here?” he wails after me.

I hold the knob of the heavy metal door.

“No. I’ll send some guys down to take care of you in a bit.”

“Wait! What? What does that mean?” he cries out, but I slam the door.

As I reach the top of the stairs, Tank and Hawk are waiting, their expressions grim. “What did you find out?” Hawk asks, his eyes sharp.

“They’ve taken her to the bluffs,” I say, my voice steady but filled with urgency. “There’s a cave. I have the coordinates. We need to move, now.”

Tank nods, already moving toward the door.

“How many are running with Gunnar?” I ask.

“As far as I know, about five guys. Mace is the only one that’s still here. Poor kid got left behind to take the fall,” Hawk says, shaking his head. "Gunnar really has no idea how badly he fucked up. I’ve known for a while he had issues with me, butthis—” Hawk trails off, the rest unspoken but understood. The betrayal cut deep for all of us.

Out in the garage,Hawk stands by the door, his eyes cold and hard, jaw set like he’s ready to tear someone apart. Tank checks his gun, the click of the safety echoing ominously. I tighten my gloves, my thoughts on Izzy and the hell we’re about to rain down on Gunnar and Reynolds.

“We leave now, we can get to the bluffs before dawn,” Hawk growls, voice low and dangerous. “We can’t waste any time.”

Tank nods, slipping his gun into its holster. “We get her out, and we make those fuckers pay.”

We ride out of the compound, engines growling like angry beasts. Hawk takes the lead, Tank and I close behind, our bikes a tight formation on the winding road.

The rain pelts down like bullets, the cold soaking through my jacket and chilling me to the bone. The roar of our bikes cuts through the night. The headlights carve out a narrow path on the slick road ahead, but the visibility is shit.

Halfway down the drive, I catch sight of flashing blue and red lights in my mirror. My stomach drops. The compound is swarming with cops.

"Shit!" I shout over the roar of the engines. "Hawk, look!"

Hawk glances back, his face twisting with anger. "Keep moving!" he barks, but there's a tightness in his voice.

We've been made. Someone tipped them off.

Tank pulls up alongside me, his expression grim. "They're raiding the clubhouse," he says, barely audible over the wind.

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