Page 2 of Savage Loyalty

“Serpents...” he rasped. “And the Vipers.”

The words hit me like a freight train. The Iron Serpents and the Black Vipers? Working together? That didn’t make any sense. Those two clubs hated each other almost as much as they hated us. An alliance between them was unthinkable, but Brick wasn’t the type to talk shit, not even on his deathbed.

“You’re sure?” I demanded, my grip on his hand tightening. “You’re telling me they’re working together?”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he was already gone. Then his head rolled to the side, his voice coming in broken fragments. “They want... everything,” he croaked. “Territory... power... They’re coming for... all of it.”

The rain seemed colder now, each drop biting into my skin as the weight of his words settled in my chest. Territory. Power. All of it. The Crimson Reapers weren’t just another club. We were kings in this region. Everything we had, we’d built through blood, sweat, and sacrifice. If the Serpents and Vipers thought they could take that from us, they were about to find out just how wrong they were.

“They’ll come for you next,” Brick whispered. His grip faltered, his fingers slipping from mine. His glassy eyes fixed on me one last time, and for the first time in all the years I’d known him, I saw fear there. Not for himself—Brick wasn’t afraid to die. This fear was for us. For what was coming.

“Watch... your back... Wraith.”

His chest rose one last time, then fell still. The rain poured on, relentless and unforgiving, washing the blood from his face. His hand went limp in mine, and just like that, he was gone.

For a long moment, I didn’t move. The storm raged around me, but all I could hear was the pounding of my pulse and Brick’s final words echoing in my head. Serpents and Vipers. Territory and power. Coming for us all.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out, raw and venomous. I wasn’t the sentimental type—hadn’t been since the day I first put on this cut—but this wasn’t just about Brick. This was about what his death meant. It was a warning, plain and simple. And I wasn’t the type to take warnings lying down.

“Wraith?”

Torch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. He was standing a few feet back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his boots shifting nervously in the mud. Torch was young, barely patched in, and nights like this showed just how green he still was.

“What?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

He flinched, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. “The perimeter’s clear,” he said, his voice steady despite the rain and the tension in the air. “No sign of anyone else. Whoever did this, they’re long gone.”

Of course, they were. They hadn’t stayed to fight. This wasn’t about killing Brick. It was about sending a message.

“They wanted us to find him like this,” I said finally, my voice cold. “This wasn’t just an attack. It was a fucking warning.”

Torch hesitated, his gaze flicking to Brick’s body. “So... what do we do?”

I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening at my sides. Brick’s bloodied cut, his lifeless face, the weight of his final words—it all settled deep in my chest. “We send a message of our own,” I said, my voice low. “But first, we get him home.”

The roar of engines filled the air as the rest of the crew rolled in. Their headlights cut through the storm, illuminating the grim scene. Gunnar “Chains” Parker was the first off his bike, his massive frame moving with the kind of heavy, deliberate purpose that made people step aside. Chains was built like a goddamn tank, with arms thick enough to snap a man’s neck and tattoos that told stories no one dared to ask about. The chain looped through his belt clinked as he stepped closer, his scowl deepening when he saw Brick’s body.

“Fuck,” Chains muttered, his voice a low rumble. “What the hell happened?”

“Ambush,” I said. “Brick said it was the Serpents and the Vipers. They’re working together.”

Chains froze, his scowl darkening. “Bullshit.”

“I wish it was,” I said. “But those were his last words.”

Chains let out a low whistle, his jaw tightening. “This is bad, Wraith. Real bad.”

“No shit,” I muttered, turning as Jaxon “Smoke” Calloway stepped off his Harley. Smoke was lean and wiry, his sharp features always set in an expression halfway between amusement and murder. He lit a cigarette, the tiny flame flickering weakly against the rain before he took a slow drag.

“So, what’s the play?” Smoke asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled into the storm. “You wanna hit back tonight, or are you gonna make us wait?”

“We bury Brick first,” I said firmly. “Then we figure out exactly what the hell we’re dealing with. I want names, plans, weak points. We don’t move until we know everything.”

Inside the clubhouse, the air was thick with tension. The common room was packed, every member of the Reapers present, their faces a mix of grief, anger, and unease. Gage “Grim” Hunter sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders hunched as he listened to me recount Brick’s final words. Grim wasn’t just the President—he was the backbone of the club, the man who’d built it into an empire. His gray eyes burned with quiet fury as I finished.

“Serpents and Vipers,” Grim said, his voice low. “Working together.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Brick said they want everything—our territory, our power. They’re not just cutting into our business. They’re coming for it all.”

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