Page 90 of Switch

A big part of me wants to go with him—to climb onto the back of his bike, press myself against him, and go back to the life we were building before. But the fear lingers. The fear that if I go back now,nothingwill change. That I’ll slip right back into the same cycle—on the outside looking in, waiting for him toletme in. That’s not enough for me. I don’t want pieces of a person. I wantallof him. And after tonight, for the first time, I feel like he’strying—reallytrying—to give me that.

TWENTY-EIGHT

SWITCH

The tensionin the room is thick. Every officer of the Iron Reapers is here, seated around the long, scarred wooden table, waiting for Mason to lay it out.

He stands at the head of the table, hands braced against the wood, shoulders tight with barely restrained fury. His gaze sweeps over us—Dagger, Blade, Rev, and me. We already know why we’re here. Carlie was harassed. Not just her—the twins were with her.

And the bastard responsible? Mitch. One of our own who walked out with Butch a few days ago.

He thought he could run his mouth, throw threats, make sure Carlie knew they were watching. He didn’t touch her, but that doesn’t matter. He wanted her scared. Wanted us to know they’re still a threat.

That was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.

Mason finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but razor-sharp with the promise of violence. “This shit ends tonight.”

The room goes silent. Not out of hesitation—just waiting to see how far this is about to go.

Dagger leans back, arms crossed, jaw tight. “We let them leave without bloodshed. And now they think they can come after our own? Uh-uh. That shit ain’t happening.”

Rev flicks his lighter open, then snaps it shut, the click, click, click filling the air. “It’s not just their mouths running anymore. We’ve been watching Butch’s operation, and it’s worse than we thought.”

My gut tightens. “How bad?”

Rev exhales hard and tosses a folder onto the table. “Guns. Drugs. A whole damn pipeline running through Jackson. He’s working with the Red Snakes, moving weight through our town.”

Blade flips through the pages, his scowl deepening. “This ain’t small-time shit. Heroin, fentanyl, meth. The kind of product that’s putting kids in the ground.” His fist clenches, muscles in his jaw ticking. “And that motherfucker is doing it right in our backyard.”

A slow burn spreads through my veins. “He’s poisoning our town?”

Rev nods. “Not just ours. He’s using the old routes we ran before we went legit. Got connections in surrounding counties, too.”

Mason’s shoulders rise and fall with a sharp breath. “And the guns?”

Dagger’s voice is grim. “Military-grade. He’s supplying outside gangs. The kind of heat that’ll have the ATF all over our asses if we don’t shut it down.”

Mason’s fingers twitch against the table. His jaw locks. “Son of a bitch. We’ve never run drugs, never played that game. He’s not just coming for us—he’s trying to burn this town to the ground.”

“He’s not thinking,” Rev mutters. “He’s on some revenge mission. Doesn’t care who gets hurt.”

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table, my voice low and firm. “This isn’t just some petty grudge or club drama. He knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t just cross a line—he’s coming straight for us, and he wants us to know it. And he’s not going to stop. Not until we stop him.”

Blade’s lip curls. “Then we burn his whole operation to the fucking ground.”

Mason nods, slow and deliberate. “We do this right. We take out his supply, his money, and his muscle. Leave him with nothing.”

Rev grins, dark and sharp. “And when he’s got nothing left?”

Mason’s eyes go cold. “We finish it.”

A slow nod moves through the room. No one speaks, but we all know what that means.

Somebody’s been feeding Butch intel. He knew where Carlie was. That wasn’t a coincidence.

Which means no club vote. No prospects. No outsiders.

Blade tosses his toothpick onto the table. “Officers only.”

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