The silence in the room takes on weight. Nitro’s big arms are crossed, his jaw hard. Deek is leaning back in his chair with his expression flat and careful, which is the expression my dickhead brother wears when he’s keeping his reaction from showing. Koa keeps glancing at me sideways, like he’s checking whether I’m going to say something or whether he needs to say it first.
I’m a prospect for anothernineteendays…
So I don’t say anything.
I stand at the back of the room with my hands in my pockets and watch the timeline on Ghost’s screen, reminding myself, steadily and without success, that this is a tactical briefing. That this is information, not a fire to run toward.
“They didn’t go in the other night to take anything,” Ghost continues. “The two individuals Millie observed were reconnaissance. They confirmed what the surveillance traffic had already been mapping. They’re ready to move. Friday was merely confirmation. The next phase will be something more direct.”
Sin’s chip goes still in his palm. “Timeline?”
“Could be days. It could be weeks. This escalation pattern isn’t patient.”
A beat passes where nobody moves, the tension loosening for a second before reality crashes straight back in. Sin pushes off the wall and looks around with the kind of unhurried authority that never needs to announce itself. “Chapel. Now… you too, Prospect,” he says, and that’s the end of Ghost’s briefing. We all make our way out of the den and head toward the Chapel.
Deek smirks at me, his shoulder bumping into mine as we head toward the Chapel. “Making it into the big leagues early, little bro. I don’t think any prospect has been to this many Church meetings. I always knew you werespecial.”He emphasizes the last word for dramatic effect.
I groan at him as we make it into the meeting room, the brothers all taking up their spaces around the table. Years of decisions made inside the same four walls have soaked into the place, leaving it with a weight of its own.
When I’m allowed in this room, my place is against the wall. Not at the table. Not even beside it, but close enough to hear if they want me to, close enough to move if I’m told.
Most of the time, I don’t get past the door.
Church is patched business.
Prospects wait outside unless someone decides they’re useful enough to be brought in.
Today, I’m allowed.
That fact isn’t lost on me.
Privilege in this room isn’t comfort. It’s an expectation of pressure, and the unspoken understanding that whatever happens next, I’m being measured while it does. Soon, I’m supposed to step across that invisible line and sit where therealdecisions are made.
This morning,nineteendays feels like a lifetime.
Sin bangs the gavel on the table, hushing the voices in the room. “All right fuckers, shut up. Ghost, go ahead,” he says, and the room settles.
Chairs scrape once, then still. Every set of eyes goes to the head of the table.
Ghost leans forward slightly, forearms on the wood, already halfway into whatever he’s been compiling since Friday night. “Two unknown males on Jonas’ perimeter,” he says. “Deliberate movement. Survey behavior. Plates pulled from the dashcam, but they’re likely clean or cloned. No immediate digital flags.”
Nitro exhales through his nose. “Alliance?”
“Too early to tell,” Ghost replies. “But they sure as fuck weren’t tourists.”
Sin’s poker chip rolls once between his fingers, slow and rhythmic. “We treat it like a precursor,” he says. “Not an incident.”
Everyone in the room shifts. Precursor means escalation, means planning, means the club doesn’t wait for confirmation before moving.
“Millie can’t stay exposed,” Koa says.
“She won’t,” Sin replies, letting the silence sit for a beat.
Something in my chest loosens, the sense of a weight shifting position instead of crushing straight down.
Then he speaks again, “Millie gets a formal security detail until we know what we’re dealing with.”
My jaw tightens before I can stop it.
