Page 110 of Sacrifice
"For future moving days?"
"For whatever the club needs. Today it's moving. Tomorrow might be running security for a run. Next week could be helping fortify the clubhouse. Prospects who can't adapt don't make it to patch."
Bodul approaches, sweat on his forehead even though there’s a surprising chill this morning. "Boss, we've got a problem with the couch."
"What kind of problem?"
"It won't fit through the door."
I follow him inside to assess. Sure enough, their oversized couch is wedged halfway through the doorframe, Aren and Hakon looking defeated.
"Did you measure before trying to force it?" I ask.
Silence.
"Right. Lesson one—always measure first. Now, angle it forty-five degrees, Aren on the bottom, Hakon guide from the top."
They follow directions, and the couch slides through easily.
"Thanks, boss," Aren pants.
"Don't thank me. Thank geometry." I head back outside where Saga's smirking. "What?"
"Nothing. Just watching you dad the prospects."
"I'm not—that's not—shut up."
"It's cute. Big bad biker teaching life lessons through furniture moving."
By noon, the apartment is empty.
The caravan heads to the loft—Bodul's truck, Ulf's beat-up sedan with boxes, our vehicles.
I lead, checking mirrors constantly.
"You're tense," Saga observes as we pull into my garage.
"Just cautious."
"Bullshit. What's wrong?"
I consider lying, but she deserves the truth. "Los Coyotes sent another crew. Bigger, meaner. Magnus is tracking them."
Her hands tighten on her thighs. "When?"
"Yesterday. Don't panic. We're safe here. That's why I wanted you both moved in quickly."
"Does Elfe know?"
"Not yet. Let's get settled first."
She nods, processing.
My brave girl, adapting to our reality.
The prospects make quick work of unloading.
Elfe immediately claims the bedroom overlooking the backyard, already planning where dog beds will go.
