Page 1 of Property of Spike

Chapter One

Spike

The weight of responsibility sits heavy on my shoulders, and I feel every damn pound of it as I lean over the maps spread across the table in the war room. Guns, shipments, and territory disputes. I’ve got my hands in it all, and the clock is ticking.

“Spike.” A sharp knock on the door cuts through my focus, followed by Tank’s voice. “You got a visitor. A woman. Says she needs to see the one in charge.”

I don’t even look up. “Tell her I’m busy.”

Tank hesitates. I can hear it in the silence that follows.

“She said it’s important.”

“They always say it’s important,” I growl, my fist landing on the table harder than I mean to. The maps shift under the force, but I don’t bother straightening them. “I don’t have time for some random chick showing up, thinking she can bat her lashes and get a meeting.”

Tank shifts, his boots scuffing against the floor. “Should I…”

“Tell her to leave.” My voice comes out sharp, cutting him off before he can finish.

Without another word, Tank retreats, the door clicking shut behind him. I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a breath. Every day, it’s something. Running the Iron Shadows isn’t a job, it’s a goddamn crucible.

A few minutes later, Tank comes back, knocking again before cracking the door. “She’s gone.”

“Good.”

But as I stand there, staring at the maps and trying to focus on the job in front of me, a nagging thought creeps in. Women don’t just show up at the Iron Shadows’ doorstep unless they’re desperate, stupid, or want to fuck. I have a hard time trusting, so biker bunny wannabe’s need to go find a different fucking club to play in. Mine’s off-limits, and they all know it.

So, she’s either stupid or desperate.

I shake it off. Whatever her problem is, it’s not mine.

“What’s the problem this time?” Tank asks, his eyes narrowing as he leans over the table, scanning the maps.

I motion to the section I’ve been focused on, a jagged red circle marking the southern edge of our territory. “Got a call from Runner this morning at the south chapter. Says some new gang is trying to make camp here.”

Tank snorts, folding his arms across his chest. “There? They must be desperate. That area’s a shit hole.”

“Exactly,” I say, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “But that shit hole is still ours. If they think they can squat on it, they’ve got another thing coming.”

He glances back at the map, his brow furrowing. “You think it’s worth the fight? If they’re that far south, it’s not like they’re threatening the heart of the club.”

I level him with a glare. “The second we start letting small-time punks set up shop in our backyard, the vultures come next. We’re not giving them a chance.”

Tank nods, his jaw tight. “So, what’s the move?”

“First, we confirm they’re actually there. I’ve got Knuckles and a couple of prospects scouting the area now. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we decide whether to smoke them out or send a message.”

Tank smirks, a glint of violence in his eyes. “I vote for sending a message. A loud one.”

I nod, my lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah. We’ll see how loud it needs to be. But we’re not giving up an inch of territory, not to some wannabe gang looking to play house.”

Tank taps the map, his finger lingering on the red circle. “Got it. I’ll get the guys prepped, just in case.”

“Good. Keep it tight. No screw-ups.”

He steps back, heading for the door. As it clicks shut behind him, my eyes drift back to the map. The weight of the club feels heavier than ever, but there’s no room to let it show. Weakness can be exploited and that’s something I can’t afford.

Chapter Two

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