WE KNOW WHAT SHE TOOK.
WE’RE COMING.
WE WON’T STOP.
My coffee cup shook in my hands.Wheels reached over and gently took it from me before I dropped it.
Nobody said a word.Not even Nugget, who had somehow appeared halfway down the stairs, shirtless, hair a mess, eyes locked on the paper.
The Ledger knew.
They knew I’d told the Saints.
They knew the copies from my apartment weren’t everything.
They knew enough to leave a warning in the clubhouse mailbox like they could walk right up to the front door whenever they wanted.
Twister slowly lifted his head.His eyes were flat, cold, and dangerous.“Lock it down.”The words were quiet.
Everyone moved.
Hodge headed for the front windows.Cord and Plug dropped their brooms and moved toward the door.Swift disappeared back upstairs, pushing Britta with him, telling her to get dressed.
Wheels moved close enough that his leg brushed mine.
Tempi came out from behind the bar with her face pale but her chin lifted.
Twister looked at Wheels.“Get Goldie away from the windows.”
Wheels didn’t hesitate.His hand closed around mine, firm and steady, and he pulled me to my feet.
I stood because he told me to.Because Twister had just given the order.Because the one normal moment I’d let myself have had been shattered in the time it took to open one envelope.
The Ledger wasn’t hiding anymore.
They weren’t only buried in paperwork, old tunnels, shell companies, and quiet break-ins.
They were right there.Close enough to touch the mailbox.Close enough to watch us.Close enough to make sure we knew this wasn’t over.
Wheels pulled me toward the hallway; his body angled between me and the front of the clubhouse.
I looked back once.The note sat in the middle of the table.Plain.Simple.Terrifying.
WE’RE COMING.
And for the first time since I’d run to the Saint’s Outlaws, I truly understood something.The Ledger wasn’t trying to scare me away anymore.They were coming to take back what they thought was theirs.
Chapter Eleven
Wheels
The Ledger had walked right up to our front door.They hadn’t fired a shot.They hadn’t kicked in the door.They hadn’t burned another building.
Instead, they’d left us four sentences.
Somehow, that had rattled everyone more than bullets had.
I sat at the table with a mug of coffee cooling beside my elbow while I watched Plug lock the front door for what had to be the sixth time that morning.
