Page 66 of Savage Loyalty

“Neither will we,” I said, my voice cold and unyielding. “This ends tonight.”

We paused near the center of the compound, where the final touches were being made to the defensive positions. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, jagged shadows across the gravel lot. It painted the scene in muted golds and blacks, the kind of light that made everything feel sharper, more immediate. The men moved like clockwork, their focus unshakable. Despite the tension, there was a sense of unity that bolstered my resolve. Whatever happened tonight, we would face it together.

Blade leaned in slightly, his voice low. “You think they’ll come at us straight or try to blindside us?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “We’re ready for anything. If they’ve got the balls to hit us here, we’ll make sure they regret it.”

As the light faded completely, plunging the compound into darkness, the floodlights we’d set up buzzed to life, bathing the area in harsh white light. Shadows stretched long and ominous across the gravel, but the glow illuminated every inch of the space. The Reapers took their positions, each man blending into the calculated chaos like pieces on a chessboard. Steel stood guard by the main gate, his knuckles white around the grip of his rifle. Torch manned the high ground, his sharp eyes scanning the tree line for movement. Blade was at my side, his presence a steadying force amid the storm.

I glanced around, the weight of leadership pressing down on me like a physical thing. These were my brothers, my responsibility, and I wouldn’t let them down.

“Positions,” I barked, my voice cutting through the noise. “Eyes on every entrance. No one moves until I give the signal.”

The men responded immediately, scattering to their assigned spots. The air was thick with anticipation, every creak of wood or rustle of leaves setting nerves on edge. I could feel the tension radiating off them, but it was tempered by something stronger: resolve. We’d been through hell together, and tonight wouldn’t be any different. The Vipers thought they could take us down, but they didn’t understand what it meant to be a Reaper.

I took a deep breath, my hand brushing over the grip of my pistol. The fight was coming, and we were ready. Whatever happened next, we’d face it head-on.

The roar of engines broke through the night, the guttural growl of the Vipers’ bikes cutting through the stillness like a battle cry. Moments later, the first gunshot shattered the air, followed by an explosion of sound as chaos erupted. Bullets rained down from the tree line, peppering the barricades and sending splinters flying into the air. The floodlights bathed the compound in an unforgiving glare, casting stark shadows that danced in the melee.

“Incoming from the south!” Torch shouted from his post on the high ground, his rifle barking as he returned fire. The smell of gunpowder and burning gasoline filled the air, acrid and suffocating.

The Vipers charged, their numbers surging forward in a wave of leather and steel. My heart pounded as I ducked behind a barricade, firing off shots toward the advancing line. Beside me, Blade reloaded with practiced precision, his face a mask of grim determination.

“Hold the line!” I roared over the din, my voice hoarse but unyielding. “Don’t let them through!”

Steel’s voice rang out from the main gate, rallying the brothers stationed there. “We’ve got them pinned! Push back!”

The Reapers fought like hell, each man pouring his rage and loyalty into every shot, every swing of a blade. Torch hurled a Molotov cocktail into the fray, the burst of flames illuminating the battlefield and scattering the Vipers closest to the barricade. The clash of metal against metal and the echo of shouts filled the night, a symphony of violence that seemed to stretch on forever.

The Vipers were relentless, their desperation palpable. One of them managed to scale the barricade, lunging at me with a knife. I sidestepped at the last second, slamming the butt of my pistol into his jaw and sending him sprawling. Before he could recover, Blade was there, his shotgun roaring as he finished the job.

“They’re thinning out,” Blade shouted, his voice strained but resolute. “Keep pushing!”

The tide began to turn. The Vipers’ line faltered, their charge losing momentum as we drove them back, inch by bloody inch. For every inch they tried to take, we pushed back harder, the gravel beneath our boots slick with oil and blood.

But the cost was high. I caught a glimpse of Steel’s lifeless body slumped against a barricade, his rifle still clutched in his hands. Fury surged through me, a raw, unrelenting force that pushed me forward. I fired until the clip was empty, the recoil vibrating through my arm as I reloaded with trembling hands.

“Retreating!” someone shouted, and I turned to see the Vipers pulling back, their forces splintering as they fled into the night. The roar of their engines faded, replaced by the ragged breaths of the brothers still standing.

By the time the dust settled, the battlefield was littered with the aftermath of the fight. Smoke hung heavy in the air, the acrid stench of burning oil and charred leather clinging to everything. Blood soaked the gravel, pooling beneath the bodies of the fallen—both ours and theirs.

I staggered forward, my legs heavy as I surveyed the scene. The Reapers had held their ground, but the cost was etched into every battered face, every lifeless body. Steel was gone. Torch was limping, his leg soaked in blood. Blade leaned against the barricade, his shotgun still gripped tightly in his hands, his chest heaving with exertion.

“Wraith,”Smoke called out, his voice rough as he limped toward me. “We held them off, but we’ve got casualties. Bad ones.”

I nodded, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vice. “Get the injured inside. We’ll regroup and figure out our next move.”

As the brothers moved to carry out my orders, I stood in the center of the compound, the weight of leadership heavier than ever. The Vipers thought they could break us, but they’d underestimated what it meant to be a Reaper. This war was far from over, and I’d make damn sure we were ready for whatever came next.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DELILAH

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of my father’s house, painting the walls in soft golds and yellows. For a moment, I let myself believe it was going to be a peaceful day. But that illusion shattered the second I heard the deep rumble of a motorcycle outside. My stomach tightened, I'm not ready for another showdown.

Axel.

The bike came to a stop in the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. He dismounted with the kind of deliberate slowness that always signaled trouble. My chest tightened as I watched him pull off his helmet, his expression a mask of barely restrained fury.

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