Page 5 of Azrael

Murmurs of agreement circled the table.

“Azrael,” he continued, looking my way, “report.”

I laid out everything I’d seen and done -- the weapons deal, the quality of the merchandise, the information about theVelver Cage.I didn’t sugarcoat the violence.These men had seen worse, done worse.Hell, most would probably think I’d gone easy on them.In truth, I had.I’d needed to make sure they could be recognized when they were found.

When I finished, Charming nodded.“Good work.The message needed sending.”He stood and leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the table.“But it’s worse than we thought.I had a visit today from someone you all know -- Melissa Carter.”

The name sent a ripple through the room.Melissa had been a friend to the club for two years now, running the new women’s shelter on the eastside.We provided security, donations, and made sure her ex-husband -- who’d put her in the hospital twice -- stayed far away.

“Her shelter took in a girl last night,” Charming continued.“Seventeen years old, beat to hell, track marks up both arms.Says she was held at theVelver Cagefor three months after answering an ad for waitress work.They got her hooked on heroin, then put her to work in the back rooms.”His knuckles went white against the wood.“When she tried to leave, they made an example of her.”

“Jesus Christ,” someone muttered down the table.

“It gets worse,” Charming said grimly.“She says there are at least a dozen girls in the same situation.Some as young as fifteen.And the guy running the whole operation personally samples the merchandise before putting it on offer to customers.”

“Marco,” I said, the name tasting like poison.

“Marco Delgado,” Charming confirmed.“Ex-military, dishonorable discharge.Rumor says he was trafficking girls in Afghanistan before Uncle Sam caught on.Now he’s set up shop here, thinking we won’t notice or won’t care.And he’s the current President for the Minions in this area.”

Stripes slammed his fist on the table.“We should burn the place to ground.With him inside.”

“Not yet,” Charming cautioned.“We do this right, or we don’t do it at all.The girl says they move the merchandise every few days between the club and other locations.We hit too soon, those girls disappear forever.”

“Do we know when they were last moved?If it’s already been several days, waiting means we’ll lose them,” I said.

“Intel says they won’t be moved again for another two days.”

“So what’s the play?”Samurai asked, ever the strategist.

Charming’s gaze found mine.“Azrael, you and Stripes will do recon on theVelver Cage.I want to know security, layout, patrol patterns, everything.Samurai, you and Phantom work your contacts.Find the clean law enforcement, the ones we can trust when this goes down.We’ll need them on our side.”

He looked around the table.“Make no mistake, brothers.This is war.Not just for territory, not just for business.This is about what kind of men we are.What kind of club we are.”His voice hardened.“The Devil’s Boneyard does not allow this shit in our town.Not now, not ever.”

Nods of agreement spread around the table.On this we were united.

“We meet back here in forty-eight hours with intel,” Charming continued.“Then we plan the hit.If there are girls in that club, we get them out.And then --” his eyes went cold – “then we send Marco Delgado straight to hell.”

“And his whole fucking operation with him,” Stripes added darkly.

I thought of the men I’d killed tonight.A warm-up for what was coming.The Devil’s Minions had chosen the wrong town, the wrong enemy.They’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Charming brought the gavel down with finality.“Church dismissed.Azrael, Stripes, Samurai -- my office.We need to talk details.”

As the others filed out, I caught Samurai’s eye.He gave me the slightest nod, a silent acknowledgment of what we all knew.The coming days would be bloody.But sometimes blood was necessary to wash away the filth.

I followed Charming toward his office.This wasn’t just club business anymore.This was about something more fundamental.

Some lines you didn’t cross in our world.Those who did paid the price.

And the Devil’s Boneyard would be collecting in full.

Chapter Two

Azrael

The rain pelted against my face as I leaned into the curve of the road.My bike responded like it was an extension of my body, the engine’s rumble vibrating through my chest as I cut through the empty streets.Nights like this were my sanctuary -- dark, wet, and desolate.The kind of night where decent folks stayed inside, leaving the streets to predators like me.Or so I thought, until a scream sliced through the steady drumming of rain on pavement.

I jerked my head toward the sound, my muscles tensing.Screams in this part of town weren’t uncommon, but this one -- this one had the sharp edge of genuine terror.I throttled down, my tires hissing across the wet asphalt as I made a quick decision.The club patch on my back meant something in these streets.It wasn’t just for show -- it carried weight and responsibility.

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