Page 29 of Fear

But it was his grin that unsettled people the most. That damn smirk, that easy, devil-may-care expression that made men wonder if he was amused or just thinking about killing them, and when it came to the Shadow Riders?

That smirk disappeared entirely. Mace had dealt with them before, and it hadn’t ended in a handshake.

“They’re worse than fucking rats,” he had once said. “They breed fast, they infest everything, and they don’t know when to fucking die.”

The Black Reapers had history with the Shadow Riders, ugly history. A bad deal gone worse, men killed, a war nearly ignited. Mace had lost good men to those bastards. And unlike the others in this room, he didn’t need a reason to want them dead. He already had one.

So, when he leaned forward, that ever-present smirk finally vanishing, he spoke in that calm, almost friendly tone of his, it wasn’t a question. It was a promise.

“Tell me when, and I’ll start digging their graves.”

King sat at the head of the table, his gaze sharp, his presence commanding.

Goliath, Fang, Dixon, and Frost flanked him, silent but imposing. They weren’t here to make friends. This was war planning, and war didn’t have room for hesitation.

King leaned forward; his voice measured but firm. “The Shadow Riders made their move. Now it’s time we make ours.”

Ronan exhaled, his gaze unreadable. “You think we’re just going to ride into this for free?”

“We’re not asking for charity,” King stated. “We’re offering an opportunity.”

Viper smirked, “That so?”

Dixon leaned forward, eyes flashing. “They called in the Serpents. That means this isn’t just about turf anymore. This is about survival.”

The room went quiet. Mace ran a hand down his beard. “Serpents MC?” He whistled low. “Those bastards don’t move unless there’s serious money involved.”

“Which means the Shadow Riders have deep pockets or powerful friends backing them,” King said.

Ronan shook his head. “And you want us to roll into a blood war with you?”

“We’ll settle our debts,” King said smoothly. “Once this is over, you won’t regret backing us.”

Viper snorted. “We better not. Because if we ride with you, we ride to win.”

Mace’s smirk widened. “So, when do we start killing?”

The doors swung open, and Gunner and Hunter strode in, covered in dirt and sweat. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, the remnants of their shifts still clinging to them.

They had been gone for over a day, stalking the Shadow Riders’ clubhouse, gathering intel, moving unseen in the dark.

“Report,” King ordered.

Hunter cracked his neck. “They’re getting ready for something. More men have been rolling in.”

Gunner nodded. “At least another dozen in the past twelve hours. Armed and ready.”

A murmur swept through the table.

“That’s forty men, maybe more, plus whatever the Serpents are bringing,” Fang growled.

Ronan swore under his breath. “They’re planning something big.”

King’s jaw tightened as he stood, his voice absolute, “Then we hit them before they get the chance.”

“We strike at dawn. Three-pronged attack. The Blood Fangs take the west side, the Iron Claws hit from the east, and the Black Reapers flank them south. The Wolverines go in from the front.”

Viper smirked. “Brave.”

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