Into the Devil's Den

The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur of preparation and barely controlled tension. The Saints' clubhouse had transformed into a military command center, with weapons being cleaned and loaded, surveillance equipment tested, and escape routes memorized. Ghost worked tirelessly at his computers, hacking into security feeds around Venom's compound while Diesel coordinated the positioning of backup teams throughout the city.

Raven sat in Jax's office, watching him pace like a caged predator while he barked orders into his phone. His long dark hair was pulled back, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the tension in his jaw. Every few minutes, his hazel eyes would find her, and she could see the war raging behind them—the conflict between his duty as president and his desire to keep her safe.

"The party starts at nine," Ghost reported from the doorway. "Venom's expecting about fifty guests—other club presidents, drug suppliers, politicians he owns. Security will be tight, but they'll be focused on protecting against outside threats, not someone walking in the front door."

"How do we get her inside without raising suspicion?" Jax asked, finally stopping his restless movement.

"She calls Venom directly," Ghost replied. "Says she's ready to make a deal. Information about the Saints' remaining operations in exchange for her life. He'll want to hear what she has to say face-to-face, especially in front of his allies. It'll make him look powerful."

Raven felt her stomach clench at the thought of voluntarily walking into Venom's hands, but she kept her voice steady. "What's the extraction plan?"

"Multiple contingencies," Jax said, moving to stand behind her chair, his hands settling possessively on her shoulders. "Ghost will monitor all communications. Diesel and Hawk will be positioned with sniper rifles on the buildings surrounding the compound. I'll be going in through the service entrance once you're inside and Venom's attention is focused on you."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"Then we level the entire compound and everything in it," Jax replied without hesitation. "I'm not leaving there without you, Raven. Whatever it takes."

The absolute conviction in his voice sent both comfort and terror through her. She knew he meant every word—if this plan failed, he would burn the world down trying to save her.

As evening approached, Raven found herself in the clubhouse bathroom, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror. She'd chosen her outfit carefully—a black dress that was elegant enough for Venom's party but practical enough to fight in if necessary. The knife strapped to her thigh was hidden by the fabric, and the small communication device Ghost had given her was concealed in her jewelry.

Destiny appeared in the doorway, her usual hostility replaced by something that might have been respect. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I can be for walking into a room full of people who want me dead," Raven replied, applying lipstick with hands that only trembled slightly.

"For what it's worth, I think you've got balls of steel," Destiny said. "Most women would have run by now. Hell, most men would have run."

"I'm not most women."

"No, you're not." Destiny's expression grew serious. "Just remember—whatever happens in there, Jax will come for you. That man would tear apart heaven and hell to get to you."

Before Raven could respond, Jax appeared behind Destiny, his presence filling the small space. He'd changed into a black tactical vest over dark clothing, weapons clearly visible on his frame. Even prepared for war, he was magnificent—all lethal grace and barely contained power.

"It's time," he said quietly.

They walked to the main room together, where the entire club had gathered. Fifty pairs of eyes watched as Jax pulled her aside, his hands framing her face with surprising gentleness given the violence he was preparing for.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice pitched low so only she could hear. "We can find another way."

"This is the only way that doesn't end with all of you dead," she replied, covering his hands with hers. "I won't let that happen."

"If he touches you, if he hurts you—"

"Then you make him pay for it," she finished. "But first, you get me out of there alive."

He leaned down and kissed her, hard and desperate, pouring all his fear and love and determination into the contact. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.

"I love you," he said, the words torn from somewhere deep in his chest.

"I love you too," she replied, the admission both a promise and a prayer.

The drive to Venom's compound passed in silence, Ghost behind the wheel while Raven sat in the passenger seat, trying to steady her nerves. The building loomed ahead of them—a converted warehouse surrounded by high walls and security cameras. Even from a distance, she could see the guards patrolling the perimeter and the expensive cars filling the parking area.

"Remember," Ghost said as they pulled up to the gate, "once you're inside, we can track your location but not necessarily communicate. If you need immediate extraction, activate the panic button. We'll come in shooting."

Raven nodded, checking her concealed weapons one final time. The guard at the gate was expecting her—Venom had been eager to accept her call, his voice dripping with satisfaction when she'd offered to trade information for her life.

"One more thing," Ghost said as she reached for the door handle. "Jax made me promise to tell you—no matter what happens, he's proud of you. You're the strongest person he's ever known."

The words gave her strength as she walked toward the compound's entrance, her heels clicking on the pavement with each step. The guards searched her thoroughly but professionally, finding and confiscating the obvious weapons while missing the ones that were better concealed. They escorted her through corridors lined with expensive artwork and into a massive room filled with the most dangerous people on the West Coast.

Venom stood at the center of it all, resplendent in an expensive suit, holding court like the king he believed himself to be. When he saw her enter, his pale eyes lit up with cruel satisfaction.

"Gentlemen," he announced to the room, his voice carrying easily over the conversation, "I'd like you to meet the woman who's been causing me so much trouble. Ms. Raven Steele, formerly of the Savage Saints."

Every conversation stopped. Every eye in the room turned to her. Raven felt the weight of their attention like a physical force, but she kept her chin high and her expression calm.

"Mr. Castell," she said, her voice steady despite the terror coursing through her veins. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"Oh, my dear," Venom said, moving closer with predatory grace, "the pleasure is entirely mine. I've been looking forward to this conversation for quite some time."

As he gestured for her to follow him to a more private area of the room, Raven caught sight of Snake watching from the shadows, his expression hungry and vindictive. Other faces turned toward her—men she recognized from intelligence files, criminals whose names appeared on wanted posters, politicians who sold their souls for power and money.

She was surrounded by enemies, walking into a trap with nothing but her wits and the promise that Jax would come for her. As Venom led her toward what she knew would be the most dangerous conversation of her life, Raven sent up a silent prayer that she would live long enough to see the man she loved again.

The final game was about to begin, and everything they'd fought for hung in the balance.