Page 17 of Dagger

“Exactly,” Harlan says. “These bastards think they can use our name to shield their side hustle. The Serpents are sniffing around, thinking we’re involved, and now I’ve got a shitstorm brewing in my backyard.”

I let out a low whistle, leaning back in my chair. “Sounds like you need to make an example out of someone.”

“Already started,” Harlan says, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s not enough. They’re dug in, and I can’t risk going in half-cocked. That’s where you come in. Mason told me you’re good at sorting this kind of thing out.”

I nod slowly, my mind already spinning. “How many guys are we talking about? And how deep are they in with the Serpents?”

“Three of ours, for sure,” Harlan says, holding up a hand. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more. As for the Serpents, they’ve got a small crew around here, but it’s enough to make shit complicated.”

I rub my jaw, considering. “First thing’s first. You need to figure out who’s loyal and who’s not. If you can’t trust your own guys, you’re screwed before you start.”

He nods. “Already working on that. But trust takes time, and we don’t have much of it. I need someone I can count on to help me make moves now.”

“Alright,” I say, sitting forward. “You give me the names of the guys you’re sure about, and I’ll start there. See what I can shake loose.”

Harlan’s grin is sharp, approving. “Knew you’d be the right guy for this.”

Over the next few weeks, I dive headfirst into the mess Harlan’s dealing with. This isn’t just some rogue members acting out—this is a full-blown disaster waiting to explode. The deeper Idig, the more it’s clear that if we don’t clean this up fast, the Iron Valkyries are going to have a war on their hands.

First, I spend time figuring out who’s loyal and who’s not. Harlan gives me the names of the guys he trusts, but the list is shorter than it should be. A lot of the club is sitting on the fence, unsure who to believe after the shitstorm the rogues kicked up.

“First thing we do is tighten up your loyalists,” I tell Harlan one night in his office. The place is a mess—papers everywhere, whiskey bottles scattered around, and maps pinned to the wall.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Harlan asks, his voice low and rough.

I shrug, leaning back in the chair across from him. “Run a job with them. Something simple. Get them working together again. Trust isn’t built in a day, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”

He nods slowly. “We’ve got a delivery run coming up. Parts for a local auto shop. Easy ride, but it’s got enough moving pieces to test them. You think that’ll work?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll ride with them, keep an eye on how they handle things.”

The delivery run isn’t smooth, but it’s not a total disaster either. Two of the newer guys start bickering about who’s taking point, and before it gets out of hand, I step in.

“Knock it off,” I bark, my voice sharp enough to shut them up mid-sentence. “We’re here to work, not stroke egos. Figure it out, or I’ll figure it out for you.”

That shuts them up, and the rest of the run goes off without any more bullshit. When we get back to the clubhouse, I see a flicker of something I haven’t seen since I got here: respect.

After that, I turn my focus to the rogues. Harlan gives me three names, and I make it my job to find out exactly what they’ve been up to.

The first guy, Trey, is cocky as hell. I track him down at a bar a few towns over, sitting with a couple of Sable Serpents, laughing like he owns the place.

I plant myself at the bar, waiting until he notices me. When his eyes meet mine, his grin falters.

“Dagger,” he says, trying to act casual. “Didn’t know you were around.”

“Yeah, well, here I am,” I say, standing and motioning toward the door. “Let’s talk.”

He hesitates, looking at the Serpents like they might back him up, but I don’t give him a choice. I grab his collar and haul him outside, pushing him up against the wall.

“You’re gonna tell me everything,” I growl, my fist tight in his shirt. “Who you’re working with, what deals you’ve made, and why the hell you thought screwing over your own club was a good idea.”

Trey spills fast. Turns out, he’s been skimming off club jobs to fund his side hustle with the Serpents. He gives me names, places, and dates, and it’s worse than I thought. The Serpents are deeper into this than Harlan realized.

I bring the intel back, and we start dismantling the operation piece by piece. We hit their stashes, cut off their supply lines, and put the pressure on anyone who steps out of line. It’s slow work, but it’s getting results.

In between jobs, I put in time with the club. I help fix bikes, mediate disputes, and make sure everyone sees me pulling my weight. Trust doesn’t come easy, but over time, the guys start to see me as one of their own.

One night, Marc, one of the newer recruits, pulls me aside. “Didn’t think much of you when you first showed up,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But you’ve been solid, man. Respect.”

---