Page 66 of Switch

Tank cracks his knuckles. “We’ve got a solid crew shaping up. Axel’s already running point on some of the jobs. Guy knows his shit.”

I nod. “Not surprised. Axel’s sharp. Clients like him.”

Piston stretches his arms behind his head. “Miles is still green, but he’s eager. Kid needs some time, but he’s got potential.”

Dagger snorts. “Potential’s just another word for liability.”

“He’ll learn,” Tank says. “Or he’ll be out.”

“We still need more bodies,” Piston adds. “We’ve got enough for the small gigs, but if we’re going to start taking corporate contracts, we need experienced guys.”

I rub my jaw, thinking it over. “We need former military or law enforcement. Guys who know what the fuck they’re doing when shit goes sideways.”

Piston scoffs. “The ex-cops might not be eager to work with us.”

“Then we find the ones who don’t give a fuck about where a paycheck comes from,” Mason says. “Long as they do their job.”

Tank nods. “I’ll put out feelers.”

Mason slaps a hand on the table. “Good. We’re finally getting this thing off the ground. Let’s not fuck it up.”

The meeting isn’t over yet. Not until Mason brings up the one thing that’s been hanging over all our heads.

“Butch.”

The second Mason says his name, the energy in the room shifts. Tension thickens the air. No one speaks, but every single one of us is thinking the same thing—this motherfucker needs to be handled.

Mason leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression hard. “We all know Butch has been running his mouth. Stirringshit up. The graffiti, the broken windows at Perdition—that was a warning.”

Dagger exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah? Then let’s make sure they don’t get the chance to send another one.”

Tank cracks his knuckles. “We should’ve handled this when he walked out on us. Should’ve put him in the ground before he had a chance to come back around.”

Piston nods. “I get it, but if we go at him full force, it turns into a war. And that’s not what we’re about anymore.”

Mason holds up a hand. “Exactly. We’re not getting into a fucking back-and-forth with Butch and whatever washed-up bastards he’s got backing him. We hit him once, hard, and make sure he doesn’t have the balls to try anything else.”

I lean forward, hands clasped. “What’s the move, then?”

Mason’s eyes meet mine, steady and calculated. “We send a message. One that leaves no room for doubt.”

Dagger nods, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Something that shows him we’re not playing, but doesn’t escalate shit into a full-out war.”

Tank grins. “So, we hurt him. Just enough to make sure he remembers why we’re still standing and he’s nothing but a washed-up old man trying to relive the glory days.”

Mason taps a finger against the table. “Butch thinks we’re soft now. Thinks we’ve gone weak because we’re making the club legit. He needs to understand that just because we’re playing the game differently, doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to win.”

Piston looks between us. “So what are we thinking? A visit? A warning?”

Mason smirks. “Something like that. We find out where he’s holed up, remind him what happens when you come at your own brothers.”

I nod slowly. “I’ll make some calls. Find out where he’s been staying, who he’s been talking to.”

Mason’s gaze lingers on me, something unreadable behind his eyes. “Good. But keep it quiet. We do this clean. One hit. Then it’s over.”

The finality in his voice says all we need to know.

We’re not hunting Butch for revenge.

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