Jake
The silver RFID key sat heavy in my palm. Stamped into the metal was the seal reserved for patched brothers who sat at our church table: *S.R. INNER CIRCLE.*
Derek Blackwell hadn’t just hired mercenaries. He had bought a traitor inside the Steele Riders.
I caught Nash by the shoulder, pulling him into the shadow of the garage bay where no other brother could hear.
"Keep this between us," I whispered. "Not a word to Raven, Dutch, or Sophia. You're the only man I trust with this."
Nash’s jaw set hard. "What’s the play, Jake?"
"The evacuation protocol is compromised," I said, showing him the notched key. "Whoever leaked this knows our standard emergency routes. If we roll the full club down the main mountain highway, we’re putting Emma in the crosshairs. We need to flush the rat."
