Page 1 of Arch
Chapter 1
Arch
Another night.
Another meeting.
We’ve got shit to do, and not enough time to do it…
The clubhouse smells like beer, smoke, and the faint tang of motor oil, a scent that’s been home for longer than I care to count.
I lean back in my chair at the head of the table, the Wolf Rider MC’s emblem—that trusted old snarling wolf framed by crossed pistons—etched into the wood beneath my elbows.
“Quiet down,” I roar, my voice carrying over the kerfuffle around me. “The sooner we do this, the sooner you sonsofguns can get back to partying.”
I cast a look to Clay, the chief Wolf Rider—he shoots me a knowing look. We’ve done this dance so many times.
Jace is here too, and he nods in my direction.
“Assholes! Shut the hell up!” Clay bellows, slamming his fist down on the table.
There’s no doubting it, the men are restless tonight, their voices a low rumble as they toss around half-baked plans to deal with the Vipers, the rival gang that’s been sniffing around Willow Creek yet again like buzzards circling a fresh kill.
“Arch, you got a read on this whole Viper thing?” Tank’s gravelly voice cuts through the chatter.
Tank is our enforcer, built like a goddamn bulldozer, but even he looks to me when the shit gets thick. Always has, always will…
I’m the brains of this outfit, the one who’s outsmarted the law, rival crews, and every trap set to take us down.
Forty-three years old, and I’ve never been caught. Not by cops, not by enemies. Not byanyone.
Except maybe by the itch I can’t scratch tonight.
I straighten, letting my gaze sweep the room. Eyes lock on me—some loyal, some twitchy.
The Vipers hit one of our stash houses last week, left two young guns bloodied and a message carved into the wall:This is our town now.
Ballsy, but sloppy.
They’re testing us, probing for weakness.
They won’t find it—not with me, Clay, and Jace leading the way.
“They’re pushing because they think we’re soft,” I say, voice low, cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke. “They hit the stash house to see how fast we’d bleed. We don’t hit back tonight, they’ll come for more. Ideas?”
Razor leans forward, his scarred knuckles gleaming under the fluorescent light.
“We roll up on their dive bar, bust some heads, show ‘em Willow Creek’s ours,” Raze says, to cheers from some of the other guys. “No one fucks with the Wolf Riders like this.”
I shake my head.
“Too loud,” I say. “Cops are already sniffing around after their last stunt. We need precision, not a brawl.”
My mind’s already spinning, mapping out their routes, their deals…
The Vipers are small-time, but they’ve got a new supplier, someone with deep pockets and deeper grudges. That’s the real threat, not their street muscle.
“Scout their warehouse on Route 17,” I say. “Find out who’s bankrolling them. No blood, no noise. Just intel. Tank, you and Jinx take point tomorrow night.”
