The clubhouse no longer looked like the place I had first walked into months ago because every entrance had been reinforced, sandbags lined every window, and armed members patrolled the perimeter around the clock while floodlights illuminated the surrounding trees.
Devil's Hollow had stopped pretending life would ever return to normal. The clubhouse had become a fortress.
Knox stood in the middle of the yard studying a large map while Roman assigned defensive positions and every available member moved with quiet purpose instead of panic because everyone understood the attack was no longer a possibility.
It was coming. The only question was when and Crow supervised the construction of barricades using abandoned trucks and heavy machinery, while Torch somehow managed to turn piles of scra
