Page 61 of Hammer

As the details of the plan began to emerge, I felt some of the savage tension in my chest ease slightly.The image of Piston’s hands on Amelia still burned behind my eyes.

Tempest caught my eye across the table, a silent question in his gaze.Are you with us?Are you satisfied with this?

I nodded once, definitive.Piston would pay.Maybe not tonight, maybe not all at once, but he would pay.And when it was over, he would never threaten my family again.

Savior rose from his seat.He looked each of us in the eye, taking our measure, before laying out a plan that would change more than just Piston’s future.

“We’re not just running them out of Alabama,” he declared, his voice cutting through the last murmurs of disagreement.“We’re going to systematically push them north, state by state, until they have nowhere left to call home.Not down here.”

The chapel fell silent, brothers leaning forward as Savior continued, his calloused finger tracing a route across the map tacked to the wall beside our table.Something we’d added after the last few battles we’d faced.

“We coordinate with the Devil’s Boneyard to squeeze them from the south.The Savage Knights and Southern Devils to block them from the west.We leave them only one direction to run -- north -- where they’ll hit the Crimson Skulls’ territory.”A grim smile touched Savior’s lips.“And the Skulls have been looking for an excuse to thin the Minions’ ranks for years.”

It was elegant in its brutality -- a strategic noose that would tighten slowly, deliberately, forcing Piston and his club into increasingly hostile territory.Not the immediate bloodbath Tempest had wanted, but not the diplomatic dance Saint had suggested either.Something more effective than either extreme.

“We start tonight,” Savior continued.“Tempest, reach out to our contacts in Florida.Set up a team to hit their distribution warehouse.No casualties if it can be helped but tell them to make sure nothing’s left standing.Also, get that list of Piston’s properties from Wire.Make sure those are lit up.Saint, reach out to every club we have a connection with down here, as well as out west.Oklahoma, California, Texas, Nevada… I want as wide a reach as we can get.”

Brothers around the table began nodding, fists pounding wood in approval.The division that had threatened to fracture our response melted away, replaced by unified purpose.This was why Savior had become President after Torch stepped down -- his ability to take competing approaches and forge them into something stronger than their parts.

“What about Piston specifically?”I asked, needing to know how the man who had threatened my family would be handled.

Savior’s eyes met mine, understanding the personal nature of my question.“He’ll be isolated.Cut off from club resources.And then, when he’s vulnerable, when he has nowhere to turn…” He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear.

A slow, vicious satisfaction uncurled in my chest, replacing some of the burning rage.This was better than an immediate hit -- more thorough, more complete.

“And my family?”I pushed.“While this is happening?”

“Protected at all times,” Savior assured me.“Rotating security details at your place, escorts for Amelia to and from work, surveillance on the boys’ school.No one gets near them without going through us first.But after what they’ve been through, I also don’t want to put them on lockdown.We just make sure they’re covered every time they leave the compound.”

The last of my objections dissolved.This wasn’t just about vengeance anymore -- it was about ensuring Amelia and the boys could build a life without fear.A permanent solution rather than a temporary satisfaction.

“I’m calling Church adjourned,” Savior announced.“Prophet, Warden, coordinate security rotations for Hammer’s family.Tempest, in addition to setting up a team in Florida, make sure we have eyes on Piston at all times.Saint, my office -- we’ll start making calls.”

The chapel erupted into controlled chaos, brothers rising from their seats, breaking into smaller groups, assignments being handed out, burner phones appearing.I remained seated, watching as my brothers mobilized to protect what was mine, a strange tightness forming in my throat.Many times I’d been part of this chaos, willing to lay down my life for someone else’s family.It felt different when we were protecting my wife and kids.

Forty plus years in this life, and still the loyalty, the absolute brotherhood, had the power to humble me.These men would risk their freedom, their lives, for my family -- not just because they were my blood, but because I had claimed them.Because I had brought them under the protection of the patch.In our world, that meant something sacred, something unbreakable.

“Hammer,” Savior called from the doorway where he stood with Saint.“Need anything specific from the Boneyard?”

I considered the question, thinking of all Amelia had been through, of the fear that still lingered in her eyes.“Information,” I said finally.“Everything they have on Piston’s operations, his weaknesses.And…” I hesitated, then added, “Ask if they know about Amelia’s father.She mentioned he was with another club.Might be worth reaching out.From what I gathered, she never knew him.Mom might have lied to her too, so could be a wild goose chase.”

Savior nodded, understanding my logic without needing elaboration.More allies meant more protection.And if Amelia’s father was in the life, he had a right to know his daughter and grandsons were in danger -- and a right to stand with us against that threat.

The chapel emptied quickly, brothers moving with purpose toward their assignments.I rose finally, crossing to the map on the wall where Savior had traced the planned extermination of the Devil’s Minions.My weathered finger traced the same path, imagining Piston running like a rat in a maze, each exit blocked, each hiding place exposed.The thought brought a grim satisfaction that settled like whiskey in my blood, warm and potent.

Behind me, chairs scraped as Prospects entered to clean the chapel; ashtrays emptied, whiskey glasses collected, the evidence of our meeting erased with practiced efficiency.I barely noticed them, my focus entirely on the map, on the plan, on the future it represented for my unlikely family.

Piston would pay for threatening to take what was mine.He would never get his hands on her because I would burn his entire world to the ground.Because the Dixie Reapers protected their own.Because I had claimed her and those boys as mine, and nothing -- not Piston, not his club, not hell itself -- would take them from me.

That wasn’t just a husband’s promise or a biker’s threat.It was a vow written in my soul, as permanent as the ink on my skin, as binding as the patch on my back.And God help anyone who tested it.

Chapter Seventeen

Amelia

I paced from window to window, checking locks I’d already verified three times in the last hour.The compound had transformed since we’d returned home, brothers appearing from all corners with weapons visible at their hips, stern-faced men posting up at entrances and patrolling the perimeter.Our small house that had begun to feel like home now felt like the center of a storm, everything outside our walls a potential threat.My fingers trembled slightly as I tugged on another window latch, needing the physical reassurance that it was secured, that nothing could slip through to harm my boys.

“Mom, you checked that one already,” Chase said from across the room, his voice tense as he continued his own patrol, moving between the front door and the hallway leading to Levi’s room.His shoulders were bunched tight beneath his T-shirt, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

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