Page 4 of Rogue’s Reckoning

The meeting wraps up, and the clubhouse erupts into a flurry of activity as we prepare for war. I'm checking my weapons when Ghost approaches me.

"You seemed distracted in there," he says, his brow raised. "This about that girl?"

I hesitate for a moment, before deciding to come clean. "Her name's Willow Bennett. And she's been seen with Lochlann from the Hawks."

Ghost's eyes widen. "Shit. Do you think this is connected?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But the timing's suspicious as hell."

He nods, processing the information. "What are you gonna do?"

I holster my gun, my jaw set. "I'm gonna do my job. Lead this strike and make the Hawks regret the day they crossed us. But after..." I pause, weighing my words carefully. "After, I need to find out if Willow's involved in this mess."

Ghost looks like he wants to argue, but he knows me well enough to recognize the determination in my eyes. "Be careful, brother. This could get messy."

"When is it not?" I reply with a grim smile.

As we head out to our bikes, I can't shake the feeling that I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But I've never been one to back down from a fight, whether it's with rival MCs or my own conflicted heart.

The roar of engines fills the night as we tear out of the compound, a vengeful army on wheels. As the wind whips past me, I make a silent promise to myself. I'll deal with the Hawks, protect the club, and then... then I'll unravel the mystery of Willow Bennett, no matter where it leads.

As we speed through the city lights blurring into streaks of neon, I can't help but feel like I'm racing toward something bigger; that all is not as it seems.

The leather-bound notebook in my cut feels like a talisman, a reminder of the girl who's inadvertently become tangled in this web of violence and revenge. I push thoughts of Willow aside, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. The Hawks need to pay, and pay dearly.

We roll up to the Shadow Hawks' clubhouse, the roar of our engines shattering the silence of the night. The element of surprise is on our side as we leap into action, guns blazing.

"Remember," I shout to my brothers as we charge forward, "We're here to send a message, not start a war."

Chaos erupts as we storm the building. The sound of glass shattering and wood splintering fills the air, punctuated by shouts and the occasional gunshot. I move with practiced efficiency, my body on autopilot as I take down one Hawk after another.

Through the melee, I spot Lochlann, the Hawks' prince, trying to make a run for it. Without hesitation, I give chase, vaulting over fallen furniture and dead bodies.

I catch up to him in the alley behind the clubhouse, tackling him to the ground. I land blow after blow to his body, my hits heavy and purposeful. He’s going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow.

"This is for crossing into our territory," I growl, punctuating each word with another blow. "And hitting our shipment.”

Lochlann spits blood, his eyes defiant. "You have no idea what's coming, Rogue," he sneers. "This is bigger than you or me."

Before I can question him further, Ghost appears at the mouth of the alley. "Rogue, we gotta go. Cops are on their way!"

After a final punch that leaves Lochlann dazed, I reach for my holster and take out my gun. I take aim, then shoot the fucker in his knee, loving the howl of pain that escapes him.

"This isn't over," I warn him, before sprinting back to my bike.

We tear out of there just as the wail of sirens fills the air. The adrenaline from the fight still courses through my veins as we make our escape, but Lochlann's words echo in my mind. What did he mean by bigger than you or me?

Back at our clubhouse, the mood is celebratory. We've struck a significant blow against the Hawks, sending a clear message about the consequences of crossing the Saints. But as my brothers toast our victory, I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something crucial.

I slip away from the revelry, heading to my room. The notebook seems to call to me, and I find myself flipping through it again. Amidst the lesson plans and class schedules, a small photo falls out. It's of Willow and who I assume is her friend, both of them beaming at the camera.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. It's Ghost.

"Prez wants to see you," he says, his expression grim. "Alone."

I nod, then tuck the photo back into the notebook and slip it into my cut. Whatever Storm wants to discuss, I have a feeling it's not going to be pleasant.

I find Storm in the chapel, nursing a glass of whiskey. He doesn't look up as I enter, just gestures for me to take a seat.

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