Page 59 of Tater
And she was riding straight through the bones of it.
She didn’t turn around. Didn’t call Tater. Not yet. All she’d have for him right now was a warning he already knew this was bigger than one ambush and one dead devil.
Instead, she let the dragon’s hum become background noise and focused on the road. On the town ahead. On the next piece of the war.
Her destination was a small truck stop on the edge of nowhere—a place Sac had mentioned once when he was drunk and bored on the phone. Neutral. Safe-ish. A place where drivers passing through sometimes talked too much if the coffee was cheap enough.
Information lived in places like that. And right now, she needed more than bullets. She needed whispers.
As the neon sign came into view—half the letters dead, the rest flickering UCK STOP—Ren felt something strange move through her chest.
Not dread.
Not anger.
Purpose.
The chain tapped against her ribs when she swung off the bike. She touched it once through the leather, a quick, grounding gesture.
“Loose ends,” she reminded herself. “We’re just tying up loose ends.”
The dragon chuckled low.
“We are weaving a fucking noose.”
She stepped into the greasy, flickering light of the truck stop diner and didn’t look back at the road. Not yet.
There’d be time for chasing and burning later.
Tonight, she was hunting something quieter:
names, routes, and the first cracks in Hector Sanchez’s empire.
And if the Hades Hellhounds wanted to haunt the shoulder of the highway behind her?
Let them.
They had no idea the fire had already passed them by.
CHAPTER 36
Smoke and Silence
Boise hadn’t slept.
By the time dawn crawled over the rooftops, the clubhouse smelled like burnt coffee, gun oil, and nerves stretched too thin. Most of the boys were still moving — fixing, checking, pacing. Brick had stripped his rifle down three times just to keep his hands busy. Eagle sat on the steps, chain-smoking and watching the empty road like he could force Ren’s headlight to appear.
Tater stood in the chapel room — the table, the maps, the photos Sac had sent from Cleveland all scattered under a dim light. The air buzzed with the hum of electronics and old music bleeding from someone’s phone down the hall.
The feed from Sac was steady. Docks, rigs, GPS pings. Nothing Ren hadn’t already warned him about. But Sac’s voice when it came over the line was rougher than usual.
Tater rubbed a thumb along the edge of his jaw. “Ren’s already headed that way.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sac said, static crackling. “And you let her ride solo?”
“She’s got her reasons.”
“You mean she didn’t give you a choice.”
