Page 49 of Tater
Ren’s voice was calm, cutting through the tension. “Not just war. A message. Shadow’s gone, and someone out there wants to make sure the Bastards take the blame.”
Eagle leaned forward, arms crossed. “So, what’s the play, Prez?”
Tater took a long breath, rubbed a hand over his jaw. “First thing—we find out where the Hounds are regroupin.’ Last I heard, they were runnin’ outta two states over.
Patch nodded. “Heard the same. Word is they been stockpiling.”
Ren looked toward the map tacked on the back wall, the pins and strings marking turf and allies. “Then they’re getting ready for more than a border skirmish.”
Tater followed her gaze. “They ain’t got Shadow to hide behind anymore, but someone’s feedin’ ‘em cash and confidence. You don’t rebuild that fast without help.”
Brick tapped the shell in the box. “You think cartel?”
“Could be,” Tater said. “Could be someone else with bigger reach. Either way, they made it personal when they came for us in our own house.”
Ren stepped closer to the table, voice low but sure. “If they want war, we give them one they can’t crawl out of. But we do it smart. We hit supply first. Cut off their legs before they can stand.”
Tater’s mouth curved, not a smile exactly, but something close. “You thinkin’ we go quiet before we go loud?”
“Always,” she said. “That’s how you burn something right.”
He nodded once, eyes sweeping the table. “Eagle, you, and Brick take a run south. Find their stash, their new base, whatever you can. I want eyes by sundown.”
“You got it, Prez.”
Tater looked at the rest. “Nobody rides solo till I say. We ain’t givin’ the Hounds a single inch to exploit shit. This time, we take the fight to ‘em—but on our terms.”
He paused, fingers drumming once against the table. “Shadow’s gone, but his ghost ain’t. Whoever’s pullin’ the Hounds’ strings is gonna learn real fast what happens when you come for the Royal Bastards.”
Ren’s eyes met his. “You know this won’t end clean.”
He nodded slowly. “Ain’t expectin’ clean. Just final.”
Eagle stood, voice rough. “Then it’s settled. We ride for intel, hit back hard, and burn it to the ground.”
Tater leaned forward, palms on the table, the chain catching the light at his wrist. “Let’s finish what that son of a bitch started—and make damn sure no one ever mistakes mercy for weakness again.”
He looked to Ren, and she gave a single nod—their silent agreement, forged in blood and fire.
“Church dismissed,” he said.
The chairs scraped back, engines roared to life outside.
The war had started again.
Only this time, the fire belonged to them.
CHAPTER 27
South Route Recon
The highway stretched long and empty beneath the midday sun, heat miraging off the road.
Eagle rode point, his patch dark against the glare, Brick running tight on his flank. They’d ridden this stretch of road a hundred times, but it felt different now—every turn heavy, every mile humming with the promise of trouble.
The south route took them through the lowlands first—flat, quiet, broken by stretches of pine and water. The air smelled of diesel, swamp, and something faintly burnt that neither of them mentioned.
A few miles past the old bridge, Eagle lifted a hand and slowed. Brick pulled up beside him, engine idling low.
