Page 14 of Wilder's Promise
I take in her slightly reddened eyes, the determined set of her jaw. "You look ready for war."
That earns me a hint of a smile. "Is that what this is? War?"
"It's what it's becoming." I hold the door open for her. "The Vultures MC don't take kindly to having their operation disrupted. Especially not by a smaller MC like ours."
We walk side by side down the corridor toward the main area of the clubhouse. The usual rowdy atmosphere has been replaced by a tense readiness that's palpable in the air
"How many of you are there?" Emma asks, taking it all in.
"Six patched members, including your father. Three prospects. A handful of hang-arounds who do odd jobs but aren't part of the inner circle." I nod toward where Ghost and Blade are conferring over a map spread across the bar. "We're small but effective."
"And the Vultures MC?"
"At least twenty to thirty that we know of. Maybe more if they hire mercenaries." I guide her toward the chapel. The club's meeting room where all major decisions are made. "They've called in reinforcements since your father disrupted their operation."
Inside the chapel, the club's wooden table dominates the center of the room. Carved from a single piece of ancient pine, it's big enough to seat ten men comfortably. Reaper sits at the head, as always, with Ghost to his right as VP. Blade, Ace, and Viper occupy their usual spots. Evelyn sits slightly apart, her presence in the chapel an exception to the usual rules.
All eyes turn to us as we enter. Reaper's gaze lands on his daughter, a complicated mixture of emotions crossing his face before he schools his features back to the hard mask of the president.
"Emma," he says with a nod. "Take a seat."
There's an empty chair beside Evelyn and another next to my usual spot. Emma hesitates only briefly before choosing the latter, sliding into the seat beside where I'll sit. I try not to read too much into that choice as I take my place at the table.
As Reaper begins speaking, I glance at Emma sitting beside me, her profile tense and wary. She's trying so hard to appear unaffected, but I can see the slight tremble in her hand where it rests on the table. Something changes inside me as I watch her—a fierce, overwhelming protectiveness that goes beyond duty or obligation to my president.
In this moment, I know with absolute certainty that I would do anything to keep her safe. Not because she's Reaper's daughter, but because she's Emma—stubborn, intelligent, wounded Emma who deserves a chance at life beyond this chaos.
This realization catches me off guard, and I force my attention back to the meeting.
Reaper wastes no time. "The Vultures MC made their move sooner than expected. They're getting desperate."
"And sloppy," Ghost adds, his voice rough from years of cigarettes and hard living. The VP's face bears the scars of countless fights, but his eyes remain sharp as ever. "Going after Emma in broad daylight was a tactical error."
"They're escalating," Reaper continues. "The attack at the diner proves they're willing to risk exposure to get to us where it hurts."
"Where what hurts?" Emma interjects. "Me? Because I'm your weakness?"
The room goes silent. Challenging Reaper during chapel is unheard of, even for his own daughter. But instead of the anger I expect, something like respect flickers in his eyes.
"Yes," he says simply. "You are my weakness. And they know it."
Emma blinks, clearly not expecting such a direct answer. "So what's the plan? Hide me here until you kill them all?"
"The plan," Reaper says, "is to eliminate the threat permanently. Charles runs his operation from a compound outside Ridgecrest, about forty miles north. Our intel suggests he's there now, coordinating the search for you and Evelyn."
"Both of us?" Emma glances at Evelyn.
"Both of you," Reaper confirms. "Evelyn can identify several of their members. She's as much a target as you are."
I watch Emma process this. The reality that she's not the only one in danger seems to shift something in her perspective.
"So what's the play?" I ask, bringing the focus back to strategy.
Reaper nods to Ghost, who unfolds a map across the table. "We hit them before they hit us. Tonight."
"All of us?" Blade asks.
"All except Wilder," Reaper says, looking at me. "You stay here, guard the women."
