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Voss Holdings
publish date:
2026-07-09 22:12:44
Latest chapter
Claimed By The Outlaw The Paralegal’s Ledger
The plan took shape over the following two days in fragments, whispered across the compound kitchen table and mapped out on a whiteboard Rafe wheeled into the war room from storage, still faintly smudged with numbers from some long-forgotten inventory count.Rafe had found, buried three layers deep in the warehouse laptop he had confiscated, a second document that changed the shape of everything. Not a memo this time. A wire transfer log, spanning fourteen months, moving money from a Voss Holdings shell account through two intermediary firms and into an account that traced, eventually, after six hours of work that left Rafe bleary-eyed and triumphant, to a name neither Colt nor Dutch recognized.He said: her name is Priya Kapoor. She's a paralegal in Whitfield's office.Colt frowned. He said: not Whitfield himself.Rafe said: not directly, no. My guess, and it's just a guess, is Whitfield's smart enough to keep his own hands clean of the money and let someone lower on the ladder take
Claimed By The Outlaw Taking The Card
They gathered in the war room at four in the morning with the specific bleary intensity of people who understood sleep was a luxury the night no longer offered them. Dutch sat at the head of the table. Emmett Cole sat beside him, still in his travel clothes, looking like a man who had come out of retirement forty years too late and knew it.Colt spread Pruitt's folder across the table. He said: we have three problems, and they are not the same problem, even though they all trace back to the same man.He held up a finger. He said: one, Whitfield knows what the club has already handed the federal government, which means Voss knows it too, which means every brother named in that cooperation agreement has a target on him that we did not know about until tonight.Second finger. He said: two, Whitfield controls how much protection this club actually receives, which means if we move against him carelessly, he can simply withdraw whatever safety net we were promised and call it bureaucratic r
Claimed By The Outlaw The Hand on the Dial
Nobody spoke for a long moment on that dark road. The name on the memo sat between them like something radioactive, and Sloane watched Colt's face work through the specific arithmetic of a man realizing that the ground he had been standing on for months had never been as solid as he believed.She said: who is he. The name on the signature line.Colt said: Deputy District Attorney Marcus Whitfield. He is second chair on the federal case against Garrett Hale. He has been in every strategy meeting this club has had with the prosecutor's office since March.He said it slowly, like each word cost him something, and Sloane understood why. If Whitfield had been feeding information to Voss, then every piece of testimony the club had given, every document they had turned over, every promise of protection the federal government had made in exchange for their cooperation, had been passing through a door that was never actually locked.Rafe crouched beside them, still holding the folder open unde
Claimed By The Outlaw Proof Of Life
The man's name, Sloane would learn later, was Dennis Pruitt, a fixer who had spent eleven years doing exactly this kind of work for exactly this kind of client, and the fact that he had once stood in a courtroom hallway beside Garrett Hale was not a coincidence at all but a plain fact of an industry that was smaller and more incestuous than most people ever had reason to learn.He walked toward the driver's side of the truck with the unhurried confidence of a man who had done this a hundred times and never once been surprised, his partner a half step behind and to the left, both of them relaxed in the specific way of professionals who believed the situation was fully under their control.Colt let him get close. That was the part that would replay in Sloane's mind for weeks afterward, how still he had gone, how he had let the man's hand actually reach the door handle before he moved.He moved fast enough that the door itself became a weapon, thrown open hard into Pruitt's forearm with
Claimed By The Outlaw The Switchback
Colt did not speed up. That was the first thing Sloane understood about how he handled danger that did not require a fistfight, that his instinct ran counter to hers, that where she wanted to floor it and put distance between them and whatever was six hundred yards back, he eased off the gas by a fraction and kept the truck steady in its place inside the diamond of bikes.He said: if I run, I tell them we know they're there. Right now they think they're invisible.She said: Colt, they are not invisible. Rafe just called them out over the radio.He said: they don't know that we know. There's a difference, and it might be the only advantage we have left tonight.Rafe's voice came low over the radio again. He said: still six hundred back. Not gaining. Not falling behind. Whoever's driving is good. Professional good.Colt keyed the radio. He said: everybody hold pace. Nobody reacts. We take the Willow Creek turn like we always do and see if they follow us onto a road that has no reason fo
Claimed By The Outlaw Six Hundred Years Back
He was moving before he finished processing the thought, the radio already at his mouth. He said: truck. Now. Everyone to the truck.Rafe's voice, sharp: what happened.Colt said: they know she's here. Move.He ran the way he had not run since he was a teenager sprinting from a foster home that had stopped being safe months before he finally left it, low and fast and silent, back through the gap in the fence, back along the treeline, his heart doing something violent and specific that had nothing to do with exertion.The truck was exactly where he had left it. Windows intact. Engine off. Sloane's silhouette visible through the glass, upright, alert, her head turning toward the sound of him before he had even reached the door.He wrenched it open. He said: are you alright.She said: yes, why, what happened, you look —He did not let her finish. He pulled her out of the truck and into him, one arm wrapped hard around her back, his face pressed briefly into her hair, and she felt him sha
Claimed By The Outlaw The Wrong Town At The Right Time
The truck broke down on a Tuesday, which felt exactly right.Tuesday was the kind of day that never promised anything good. Tuesdays were when your landlord called about the rent. Tuesdays were when doctors delivered the kind of news that rearranged your whole understanding of your life. Tuesdays h
Claimed By The Outlaw Everything She Did Not Say
She did not run.She wanted to. Every instinct she had spent the past two weeks sharpening told her to move, to be gone before that conversation in the parking lot ended, to be back in the truck and down the road before Colt came inside with whatever that man had told him about who she really was.
Claimed By The Outlaw The Job She Didn’t Ask For
She drove the truck around for an hour because she could.Not to go anywhere. Not toward Denver or Chicago or any point on a map that meant something. Just the mountain roads curving through pine trees with the windows down and the cold October air filling the cab. The engine ran smooth and quiet,
Claimed By The Outlaw Her Name In Someone Else’s File
Sloane stopped on the third step from the bottom.The woman at the bar had her back turned. She was maybe forty, dark hair pulled into a neat braid, and she was talking to Pearl in the low focused way of someone conducting an interview. The photograph was face up on the bar. Even from across the ro
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