CHAPTER 5 - Betrayal Wears Familiar Colors

The photo burned into my brain.

Tommy Vega. The kid I had been trying to save from this life. Sitting across from a man in cartel colors, money stacked between them on the table.

"No." The word came out strangled. "That cannot be right."

"But it is." Derek stepped closer, still wearing that cruel smile. "Your little charity case has been working with the Sinaloa Cartel for months. Feeding them information about both clubs."

My father grabbed the phone, his face going dark red. "Where did you get this?"

"I have been tracking unusual activity around the territories. Tommy made mistakes. Got sloppy." Derek shrugged. "The cartels promised him his own crew, his own territory. All he had to do was make sure this alliance never happened."

"By killing Eva," Albert said, his voice deadly quiet.

"By killing Eva," Derek confirmed. "Dead bride means no peace treaty. Both clubs tear each other apart while the cartels move in and take everything."

I felt sick. Tommy had smiled at me yesterday. Called me Miss Eva. Told me the club was his family while planning my murder.

"Where is he now?" Marcus demanded.

"That is the thing." Derek's smile widened. "He is at the Crimson Reapers clubhouse. Been there all night. Probably wondering why his hired gun failed."

The room exploded into noise. Reapers shouting, Vipers cursing, everyone reaching for weapons.

"Quiet!" Knox's voice cut through the chaos. "If Derek is telling the truth—"

"Big if," Albert interrupted, staring at his brother. "Why would you help us? What do you want?"

"Maybe I am tired of watching you play hero, brother." Derek moved closer to Albert, and I saw the hatred simmering there. "Maybe I want the Vipers to know I am just as valuable as the precious Ghost. Or maybe—" he looked directly at me, "—I do not want to see an innocent woman die because some punk kid got greedy."

"You expect us to believe you suddenly grew a conscience?" Albert's hand went to the gun at his waist.

"Believe what you want. But every minute you waste, Tommy is destroying evidence and planning his next move." Derek gestured to the phone. "Check the metadata. That photo was taken six hours ago at a warehouse near the border. I can give you the exact location."

Knox and Marcus exchanged looks.

"This could still be a trap," Jacks said. "Get us all in one place and blow us to hell."

"Or it is a chance to cut the head off this snake before the wedding," Marcus countered. He turned to me. "Eva, you know this kid. Could he do this?"

I thought about Tommy. Nineteen years old. Desperate to belong. To prove himself.

"Yes," I said quietly. "If they promised him enough, if they made him feel important... yes, he could."

Albert's hand found my shoulder again. "You are not going anywhere near this."

"He trusts me," I said, looking up at him. "If you storm in guns blazing, he will run or fight. But if I am there—"

"Absolutely not." Albert's grip tightened. "You are the target, Eva. I am not using you as bait."

"She has a point," Derek said, earning a murderous look from Albert. "Tommy will not expect her to show up with an army. She walks in, confirms he is there, we move in before he can react."

"No." Albert's voice was final.

"It is not your decision," I said, pulling away from him. "This is my life he is trying to end. I want to face him."

"Eva—" my father started.

"You want me to marry a stranger to keep me safe? Fine. But I am not going to hide while other people fight my battles." I stood, looked at Albert. "Either I go with you, or I go alone. Choose."

The muscle in his jaw worked. I could see the war happening behind his eyes—protection versus practicality.

"If anything happens to her," Albert said to Derek, "I will kill you first. Brother or not."

Derek raised his hands. "Noted."

Thirty minutes later, I was in the back of an SUV headed toward the Reapers clubhouse, sandwiched between Albert and Jacks. My father and Knox followed in separate vehicles with a dozen men from each club.

An army mobilizing because a kid I tried to help wanted me dead.

"When we get there," Albert said, checking his gun, "you stay in the vehicle until I clear the area."

"I thought we agreed—"

"We agreed you could come. Not that you could walk into active danger." He looked at me. "Trust me to do my job, Eva. Please."

The please surprised me. It was the first time he had asked rather than commanded.

"Okay," I said.

The clubhouse appeared ahead, lights blazing. Normal activity. Nobody knew we were coming.

The vehicles stopped a block away. Albert's phone buzzed.

"Knox says Ruby confirmed Tommy is inside. Back room. Alone." He turned to me. "Last chance to stay here where it is safe."

"Not happening."

He nodded once, then kissed my forehead. Quick, unexpected, possessive.

"Stay behind me. Always."

We moved as a unit. Silent. Deadly. Both clubs working together for the first time in three years.

The clubhouse door opened. Ruby stood there, cigarette in hand, face grim.

"Back room," she confirmed. "But you need to see something first."

She led us through the quiet clubhouse—too quiet, I realized. Where was everyone?

Ruby opened the back room door.

Tommy sat at the table. But he was not alone.

Three bodies lay on the floor. Reapers I recognized. Good men. Dead.

And Tommy stood over them with a gun, pointed directly at us.

"Hey, Miss Eva," he said, smiling that boyish smile. "I was wondering when you would figure it out."

Behind him, the window shattered.

Red dots appeared on all our chests.

"Nobody move," a voice said over a speaker. "Or everyone dies."

The cartels were not waiting for the wedding.

They were here now.