The stolen weapon stash turned the entire clubhouse vicious overnight because everybody knew someone inside club territory had either betrayed them or gotten sloppy enough to let Raze strip one of their supply locations clean.
Neither option sat well with Blade.
By sunrise half the property buzzed with tension while members loaded weapons and checked bikes near the rebuilt garage and Drake stood beside me at the kitchen counter downstairs watching me shove extra ammunition into my jacket.
“You stay behind me today.” He said flatly.
“Absolutely not.” I said looking up at him.
“Storm.” He said.
“You bringing me or not?” I asked.
“You’re genuinely impossible.” Drake said staring at me for a second before exhaling sharply.
“That’s not a no.” I said.
By midmorning the club rod
