Page 89 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Nothing to discuss.” Teller leans back, completely at ease. “Boundaries were set years ago.”

“Things change. The town’s prospering under your protection. Seems selfish not to share the wealth.”

“Share?” Rick laughs. “You mean to take. Like you’re taking other clubs’ territory up north.”

Something flashes in Marcus’s eyes—surprise that we know about his other moves.

“Progress requires expansion.”

“Progress requires respect.” Teller stands, his presence filling the space. “You want war? Keep pushing. But remember—we’re not some small charter you can intimidate. Wolf Pike is ours.”

“Everything has a price.” Marcus rises too, trying to match Teller’s authority and failing. “Territory. Businesses. Even people, sometimes.”

The threat hangs clear. My hand tightens on my knife, but Teller’s slight headshake holds me back. Not yet.

“Choose carefully.” Teller’s voice could freeze hell. “Cross that line, there’s no going back.”

“Twenty-four hours.” Marcus heads for the door, his men falling in behind him. “Think about our offer. Would hate to see more…misunderstandings.”

After they leave, Teller turns to us. “Double patrols. Watch every business, every family. They’re planning something bigger than territory grabs.”

“What’s their angle?” Rick asks. “Why push so hard now?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” Teller checks his phone as reports come in. “Clay’s team is tracking their movements. Let’s see what rats they lead us to.”

We ride home in formation, alert for tails. Brothers peel off to assigned positions, strengthening our hold on Wolf Pike. At the gallery, I study our new windows—stronger now, ready for whatever comes.

Let Death’s Head play their games. Let them think they can threaten what’s ours. They’ll learn why the Black Wolves rule Wolf Pike. And why you don’t fuck with family.

34

RICK

“They’re still here.”Clay circles the map spread across The Den’s table. “Three prospects spotted near Mario’s shop. Two more watching Sarah’s Diner.”

After the meeting, we gathered at our bar to plan. Death’s Head’s twenty-four-hour deadline means shit when they’re already moving pieces into position.

“Mario called.” Teller takes his usual seat, beer untouched. “Said they tried coming in after hours. Claimed they wanted to discuss ‘protection fees.’”

Chase cleans his knife—an old habit when he’s thinking. “Mario’s been under Black Wolves’ protection for twenty years.”

“That’s the point.” I study patrol reports from our brothers. “They’re pushing established businesses and testing their loyalty to us.”

The Den stays closed to the public tonight, giving us privacy to handle club business. Sarah keeps the front lit to maintain appearance while we work in the back.

“Four bikes just pulled in.” Kip’s voice crackles through our radios. “Looks like Marcus himself.”

That gets everyone’s attention. Death’s Head’s president showing up personally means something’s about to pop.

“Location?” Teller asks.

“Old paper mill. The one they’ve been using for meets.”

I exchange looks with my brothers. The mill sits just inside our territory.

“Take a ride?” Chase suggests, already standing.

“Carefully.” Teller nods. “Four men max. No colors. Just eyes on what they’re doing.”

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