By the time the sun rose, the Vipers were already on the road… tired, bruised, and running on almost no fuel.None of them wanted to say what they were all thinking—La Boca wasn’t a win. They had just made it out alive.When they got back to the clubhouse, something felt wrong.Ashley’s stomach tightened. “Something is not right,” she said softly.Jax scanned the area. “Where is the gate watch?”Cole frowned. “There should be two guards out front.”But the post was empty. The gate was cracked open, like someone left in a hurry… or wasn’t coming back.Ace kicked a gas can near the bikes. It was completely dry. “We are out of fuel too.”Nolan’s tone turned sharp. “Check the armory.”They rushed inside. The lock was cut, and the ammunition boxes were overturned. Half the weapons were gone.Ashley picked up a bullet casing from the floor, turning it in her hand. “This wasn’t random.”“No,”
La Boca was too quiet.Ashley crouched beside Nolan behind an overturned truck, binoculars raised. Through the broken fence, she saw rows of Iron Fang bikes and men in black jackets. In the middle stood Dave—their president, shouting orders near a line of trucks loaded with boxes.“The Iron Fang president is here,” Ashley whispered.Nolan scanned the yard. “About a dozen guards. Maybe more inside.”Jax flexed his hands. “Too many for a clean hit.”Ace smirked. “Good thing we don’t do clean.”Cole gripped his rifle tighter. Ashley caught the nervous twitch in his fingers. “You okay?” she asked.He nodded. “Yeah. Just ready to end this.”Nolan looked around. “We move quietly. Jax, take the loading yard. Ace, you are with me. Ashley, Cole… circle around the storage wing. If they see you, pull back and signal.”Ashley checked her gun. “Are we taking the shipment?”“If it is there,” Nolan said. “If
The rain had finally stopped by morning.Ashley woke up to the sound of Ace breathing beside her. She just watched him for a few seconds—his calm face, the faint trace of a smile still there even in sleep. She didn’t know what last night meant, but it had felt real. And that was enough.She got out of bed carefully so she wouldn’t wake him and pulled on her hoodie. The floor was cold under her feet. As she walked down the hall, she heard voices from the kitchen—low and tense.Nolan’s voice came first.“…we are out of time. Delgado’s men are regrouping. I don’t care what intel says… we are not ready.”Ashley stopped halfway down the stairs.Jax snapped back, “We will never be ready if you keep second-guessing everything.”“I’m not second-guessing,” Nolan shot back. “I’m making sure we don’t die out there.”Cole’s voice joined in, rough and tired. “We are not the ones falling apart, Prez. You are.”No one said a wo
The rain hadn’t stopped all night. Ashley sat on the porch steps, hoodie sticking to her skin, hair damp on her neck. For once, she wasn’t thinking about Delgado or Alvarez or what came next. She just wanted to breathe.Inside, the clubhouse was quiet. Jax had disappeared into the garage with a bottle. Nolan was still bent over layouts, trying to plan a fight that wouldn’t play fair. Cole had passed out in a chair.Only Ace was awake.She saw his reflection in the window before he stepped outside—barefoot, shirt hanging open, that usual swagger softer now. For a moment, she almost told him to stay inside. She didn’t want him to see her this tired, soaked, and empty. But he came anyway. Ace never stayed where he was told.“Are you planning to drown out here?” he asked.Ashley didn’t look up. “Thinking about it.”He sat beside her on the steps. “Rough night?”“They all are lately.”
Ashley hadn’t slept. Ramirez’s words kept replaying in her head—You are standing in the middle of a storm, and you don’t even have a roof. She wasn’t sure if he was warning her… or marking her. By dawn, a truck screeched into the yard, tires spitting mud. Jax jumped down from the driver’s seat, his face set in a look that meant bad news and blood. “Got something,” he called, yanking open the back of the truck. Inside, bound to a chair with duct tape and rope, was a man Ashley didn’t recognize. Mid-forties, rough skin, broken nose. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, a cartel symbol half-torn off his sleeve. Cole hauled the man out, throwing him onto the floor. The man groaned, his lips split, one eye swollen shut. Nolan stepped out of the clubhouse, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Who is he?” “Name is Rico,” Jax said. “Iron Fang runner. Caught him snooping near the fence around midnight. He tried to ditch a burner phone before we grabbed him.” Ashley crossed her arms. “So
The truck stop off Route 287 looked like trouble waiting to happen. The Vipers rode in quietly with no patches. Ashley parked beside Nolan’s Harley. The night felt heavy, the kind that made you stay on edge. A big cargo truck was parked nearby, its driver asleep behind fogged glass. A perfect cover trap. Cole got off his bike last, scanning the dark corners. “Doesn’t look like your kind of crowd,” he muttered. Ashley adjusted her gloves. “That is the idea.” Ace swung off his bike, stretching lazily. “Relax, rookie. If she says it is safe, it is safe.” Cole shot him a glare. “You don’t believe that.” Ace grinned. “Not a bit.” Nolan spoke sharply. “Eyes open. Jax, north side. Ace, back lot. Nobody moves till we know who we are meeting.” Ashley nodded and stepped forward. Her memories made her feel sick inside. She’d been in places like this before, when Delgado used to whisper in her ear where to go, who to trust, and who to leave behind. She pushed the thought away an