Page 44 of Calypso's Shield
“You better be ready for this, Law Dog,” I warn him. “Because once we go in, there’s no turning back. Our clubs are going to war.”
A sudden crash outside the office has us all tensing. A split second later, the smell of gasoline and smoke curls into the air.
“Fucking hell.” French curses, sprinting for the window. Her face goes pale. “It’s them.”
I whip around just in time to see the fire flickering outside, spreading fast. A charred piece of cloth hangs out of a broken window. A Molotov cocktail, still burning. The message is clear: They’re not waiting for us to come for them.
They’re already here.
The lights flicker as someone slams open the door, and a grim-faced Lemon steps in, guns blazing. “We’ve got a problem,” he snarls, his jaw tight with fury. “The Femmes hit one of our spots. Took out some of our brothers.”
Allura doesn’t miss a beat. “How many?”
“Too damn many,” Lemon growls, his thick Irish accent punctuated with rage. “They’ve got the numbers on us, but they don’t know who they’re dealing with. You’ve got to move, now.”
I exchange a look with Farris, and for the first time in days, there’s no hesitation between us. This is it. The line has been drawn in the sand. We’re not backing down. Not now. Not ever.
“Call the Royal Bastards,” I order, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Get them in motion. We’re hitting the Femmes hard, and we’re not just bringing Dave Train down,” I say, my voice low, deadly. “We’re burning his entire fucking world to the ground.”
17
FARRIS
Ialways knew it would end like this. Not in a courtroom, not with a fucking badge, but with war, with blood, with fire.
The moment the Royal Bastards and the Royal Harlots roll down the highway together, I know this isn’t just about settling a score anymore. This is annihilation.
Dave Train and the Bloody Femmes thought they could come after me. After my woman. After my club.
They fucked around.
Now they’re about to find out.
Before we even reach the warehouse, I see it. Smoke curling against the night sky like a goddamn omen. Then, the crack of an explosion shatters the night, and my gut clenches.
“Fuck,” Capone growls from his bike, flipping his phone open. We pull over and wait. A few seconds later, he curses again. “They torched one of our goddamn supply houses.”
Calypso pulls up beside me, her face tight. “They’re trying to pull us apart.”
I grip the handlebars tightly. This isn’t just some random act of war. This is a fucking trap. They want us to break formation, they want us to spread thin so they can pick us off.
Blayze looks at Capone. “What’s the move?”
Capone’s jaw clenches. “Half the RBMC stays here to storm the warehouse. Torch, Dagger, take a crew to handle the fire.”
Allura glares at Capone. “I should be going with them.”
“No,” Capone snaps, his jaw locked. “This is about Train. We end this now.”
Allura doesn’t argue because she knows he’s right. We don’t stop, we don’t take the bait. We ride straight into hell.
The roar of bikes drowns out the fire crackling in the distance as we close in on the warehouse where the Bloody Femmes and Dave Train are holed up.
Royal Bastards and Royal Harlots united, side by side, ready to end this.
Capone and Blayze take point, their expressions lethal, their weapons loaded. Behind them, Allura and the Harlots roll in, their bikes growling, every single one of them armed to their teeth. The roar of bikes thunders behind me as we descend like demons straight out of hell.
The first shot cracks through the air, sharp and deadly, and then all hell breaks loose. The Bloody Femmes and the Black Market Railroad wanted war, well they fucking got it.
