Page 92 of The Oath We Take

Ember’s lips are soft, her cheeks warm to the touch when I lean in to kiss her goodbye.

“I’m nervous,” she says. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Try to go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll message you when I can. I put a gun next to the bed. It’s loaded and the safety is on.”

“The land,” she says suddenly.

“What?”

“The land. My dad’s been thinking about what Wheeler is going to do with the land once it’s his. He’s worried about the land the club sits on. If anything goes wrong or goes down and you need an out, offer Dad the clubhouse land in return.”

I swallow deeply. “He thinks Dad is up to something too?”

“You do?”

I nod. “Saw him talking to some developers. Probably getting an assessment on the land value.”

Ember reaches for my hand. “Your life is worth so much more than those acres. Offer them to him if it helps you. I know your grandpa will agree for the good of you and the club.”

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it, but it’s a strong bargaining chip. “Thank you.”

I kiss her one more time and find strength in her lips. Tonight will require the kind of courage only Em could inspire.

It’s still dark when I mount my bike and peel out onto the trail down to the clubhouse. The full moon is high in the sky, bringing a hard-to-describe brightness to the landscape. The moonlight dances across the meadow, creating monochrome shadows.

Usually, I love the clarity and power of being alone in the darkness.

There’s no one around, and you feel so insignificant under the enormity of the night sky, it’s as though the weight of the stars sits on your chest.

I take in some deep breaths, using the ride to calm my unusually racing heart. Under pressure, I’m usually cool. It’s one of the characteristics that make me a good and fair enforcer.

But today, I struggle to find the inner calm I usually tap into before making a decision, even though I know I’ll handle whatever I’m walking into better if my heart isn’t racing at a million beats per hour.

The trail comes down over the crest of a hill to the clubhouse, and I pause at the top, searching the landscape for clues as to what’s going on.

But I see no signs of any kind of intrusion. There are no unusual vehicles in the lot; I don’t see any unexpected people crawling around. Both the inner gate and the outer gate farther down the trail remain locked.

It doesn’t mean that there isn’t something untoward going on in the clubhouse, but it’s a relief to realize it isn’t a large-scale siege.

I freewheel the last twenty meters into the parking lot with the engine off. If anyone inside had been paying attention, they might have heard it sooner. It is the middle of the night, after all.

Once I’ve parked my bike, I grab my weapon, and, raising it to eye level, I make my way into the clubhouse.

But as I glance around the corner, I see Butcher and Wraith sitting by the bar.

Butcher is sitting bolt upright, smoking a cigarette.

Wraith is resting his forehead on his clasped knuckles. The fucker’s phone is right there in front of him. He must have seen my message and chosen not to reply.

Neither is speaking.

Then, Butcher sees me, and fuck. I’ve seen that look. It’s the one he has when he’s facing one of his enemies.

Has Catfish ratted me out to Butcher?

My heart sinks.

I know Catfish wouldn’t have done that. I trust my brother.

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