Page 58 of Tempest

“Won’t have ‘em,” Wire muttered, his focus laser-sharp. “I’ve got thermal imaging, night vision, motion sensors… if a fucking squirrel farts near this place, we’ll know about it.”

A savage grin tugged at my lips. “Perfect.”

I watched him work for a moment, marveling at how his usual energy was channeled into absolute concentration. My own restlessness itched beneath my skin, demanding action.

“You need anything?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Wire shook his head, still not looking away from his screens. “Nah. Just keep everyone out of here for a bit. Can’t have some drunken asshole tripping over my setup.”

“I’d ask who the fuck would be drinking at a time like this, but shit. I’d down a bottle of whiskey if I could.” I turned to leave. “You got it. Holler when it’s ready for a test run.”

“Wait,” he said. “I want Lavender and Atlas here. They can help with all this, and both can hack into systems as well as I can. In fact, Atlas may have surpassed me already.”

“What about Livvy?” I asked, wondering where his daughter would be if the rest of her family was here.

“She’s already with Ares, Junie, Judd, and Marnie. Prophet is watching them for now, but when he’s needed, he has a plan in place,” Wire said.

“Fine. Get Lavender and Atlas here. You can have whatever you need.”

As I stepped back into the main room, the noise washed over me again. My fists clenched involuntarily. So much left to do, so many variables to account for. And somewhere out there, enemies circling, waiting to strike.

My blood sang for violence, for the simplicity of fists and fury. But I couldn’t indulge. Not yet. I had a club to protect, a woman to keep safe.

I took a deep breath, forcing the rage down. Time to get to work.

I strode down the hallway, the muffled sounds of preparation fading behind me. The supply room door stood ajar, and I pushed it open, revealing our Prospect, Caden, hunched over a clipboard.

“How we looking?” I barked, causing him to jump.

Caden spun around, eyes wide. “Jesus, Tempest! Didn’t hear you coming.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’d better work on that. A distracted biker’s a dead biker.”

He swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Cut the ‘sir’ shit,” I said. “Just give me the rundown.”

Caden’s eyes darted to his clipboard. “Right. We’ve got enough water to last a week, maybe two, canned goods for at least two weeks. Medical supplies are good -- bandages, antibiotics, pain meds. Even managed to score some suture kits.”

I grunted, impressed despite myself. Even though the last run had ended in disaster, we’d had no choice but to try again. At least this time, we’d managed to bring back some stuff. “Not bad, Prospect. What about ammo?”

“Enough to start a small war,” he said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice.

“Good,” I said. “Because that might be exactly what we’re facing.”

“And um, I also got my hands on some grenades. Probably not something we want to use at the compound, but we’ll have them if we ever need them.”

I just shook my head but smiled. Kid had a good head on his shoulders. One day, he’d patch in and be a brother. I had no doubt about it.

Leaving Caden to his inventory, I made my way to the war room, which had been Church until this morning. Viking stood hunched over a map. His eyes, cold and calculating, traced invisible lines across the paper.

“Talk to me,” I said, stepping up beside him.

Viking’s finger jabbed at a spot on the map. “We’ve got three primary safe houses secured, all outside of town. The Devil’s Boneyard came through big time. In addition to the men here, each club sent a few to guard the safe houses. Reckless Kings even sent Copper, Wrangler, and Nitro.”

I nodded. “And the buses?”

“Two of ‘em,” Viking confirmed. “Small, windows tinted dark as night. They’ll get our people out clean if it comes to that. Stashed them behind the compound. As long as we keep the cartel focused on us here, they should be able to slip away.”

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