Page 9 of Maverick's Code

A ghost of a smile touches Crow's lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Interesting."

"This is bullshit," Wrath spits. "She's probably a plant. Jake's not stupid enough to let someone with real intel just walk away."

"No," I say before I can stop myself. "He's not stupid. He's cruel. And arrogant." My voice shakes slightly, but I force myself to continue. "He never thought I'd run. Never thought I'd darebetray the club. Because in his mind, I'm just property. His future old lady. Something to own, not someone to fear."

Silence falls over the parking lot. I can feel Maverick's hand press slightly firmer against my back - support or warning, I'm not sure.

Finally, Butcher speaks.

"Inside. Now." He points at Maverick. "And you better pray this doesn't blow back on all of us."

As we follow them toward the clubhouse door, I whisper to Maverick, "That went better than expected."

He glances down at me, his expression grim. "Don't celebrate yet, princess. That was just the warm-up."

The inside of the clubhouse is dimly lit, with the musty smell of stale beer and cigarettes that seems universal to all biker bars. Maverick's hand remains steady at my back as he guides me past the main bar area toward a closed door at the back.

My breath catches when I spot the words "Reunion Room" painted on the door in faded gold letters. The reunion room - where all the real decisions are made. I've never been allowed in the Outlaws' equivalent; women weren't welcome in their inner sanctum.

Maverick pauses before opening the door. "Ready?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. He pushes the door open, and my heart nearly stops.

Sitting at the head of a massive wooden table is Hellfire himself - the President of Iron & Blood. His face is more lined than in the surveillance photos, but his eyes are just as intense as I'd imagined. Next to him stands a young woman about my age, beautiful in a fierce way, with long dark hair and a familiar set to her jaw. Angel - Hellfire's daughter.

"Well," Hellfire's deep voice fills the room as he takes me in. "Looks like you brought us a stray, Maverick."

"Sir," Maverick starts, but Angel cuts him off.

"Jesus Christ," she moves around the table, her eyes fixed on my face. "Who worked you over? No, wait - let me guess. Jake Russell?" When I flinch at the name, she nods grimly. "That tracks. He's got a history with women who say no."

Hellfire leans forward, his massive forearms resting on the table.

"Maverick, you want to explain why an Outlaw princess is standing in our Clubhouse?"

I feel Maverick tense beside me. This is it - the moment that decides everything. I just hope I'm worth the risk he's taking.

"She has information," Maverick says, his voice steady despite the tension. "About Jake and Marcus Cooper."

At the mention of the second name, Hellfire's eyes narrow dangerously. Marcus Cooper - the other Outlaw leader who escaped, the one whose name I haven't dared speak until now.

"That so?" Hellfire's gaze shifts to me, and suddenly his expression changes, recognition flooding his features. "Well, I'll be damned. You're Johnny's little girl, aren't you? Got your mother's face, but those eyes..." he shakes his head. "Those are all John Miller."

I blink in surprise. "You knew my father?"

"3rd Battalion, Desert Storm," Hellfire says quietly. "Your old man saved my ass more times than I can count. I couldn't believe it when he patched into the Outlaws instead of joining us.”

The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut. All these years, and I never knew. How many other things about my father were kept from me?

"The Outlaws killed him," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Jake told me yesterday, right before..." I gesture to my face. "Said my father was weak because he opposed their trafficking ring. That his death wasn't an accident like they told me - it was a message to anyone else who might get a conscience."

Angel mutters something that sounds like a curse, while Butcher's massive hands curl into fists on the table.

"Jake was drunk, celebrating his new position after you took out most of the leadership," I continue, finding strength in their reactions. "He kept bragging about how the trafficking ring might be gone, but there were other opportunities. How my father never understood that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. Called him weak," my voice breaks with anger. "My father had more integrity in his little finger than the entire club combined."

"That he did," Hellfire agrees, surprising me. "John Miller was a lot of things, but weak was never one of them."

"Now Jake thinks he's untouchable," I say, forcing myself to continue. "Him and Marcus both. They're planning something big - something that'll make the trafficking ring look tame in comparison. And they're using what's left of the Outlaws to do it."

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