"I think you know what I want." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "My fiancée ran away, and I've been looking for her. And I have it on good authority that she's here."
"Do you?"
"Come on, Phoenix. We both know she came to you. Where else would she go?" Cole's tone is reasonable, like we're discussing the weather. "The girl's confused. Scared. Probably told you some story about me being a bad guy. But she belongs with me. With the Vipers. I'm just here to take her home."
Every word out of his mouth makes my blood boil hotter.
"First of all," I say, my voice deadly calm, "she's not your fiancée. She ran the night before the wedding, which means she made her choice pretty fucking clear. Second, she's not confused or scared. She's smart enough to know when she's in danger and brave enough to do something about it. And third—" I take a step closer, "—she's not going anywhere with you."
Cole's smile falters slightly. "That's not your call to make."
"It's absolutely my call. She came to the Iron Phoenix asking for protection. I gave it to her. Which means she's under our care now, and you don't get to just walk in here and demand her back like she's a piece of property you misplaced."
"She is my property," Cole snaps, the mask slipping for just a second. "I spent two years investing in that girl, making her into something worth having. She doesn't get to just leave because she's having some kind of breakdown."
Judge makes a sound next to me, low and dangerous. I feel the same rage, but I keep it locked down. Barely.
"Investing," I repeat, my voice flat. "Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot more like abuse. Like you spent two years beating her down, controlling her, making her feel worthless. And now she's had the audacity to escape, and you can't handle it."
"Phoenix." Razor speaks for the first time, his voice gravelly with age and cigarettes. "You don't know what you're talking about."
I turn to look at him. "Don't I, Razor? You were there when my father ran the club. You know what the Vipers used to stand for. You know what they've become. And you're standing here defending a man who beats women? That what you are now?"
Something flickers in Razor's eyes. Shame, maybe. Or regret. But his jaw sets. "I stand with my club."
"Your club is rotten," I say. "And you know it. You've known it for years. You just chose to look the other way."
"Watch your mouth," Razor warns, but there's no heat in it. Just weariness.
I turn back to Cole. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to get on your bikes and ride back to whatever hole Demon's hiding in, and you're going to tell him that Ivy Mason is under Iron Phoenix protection. She's not coming back. Not today, not ever. That's final."
"You're making a mistake," Cole says, but there's an edge to his voice now. "Do you have any idea what you're starting here? This isn't just about one girl. This is about respect. About the Vipers' right to handle our own business."
"Your business?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "She's not your business. She's a human being who chose to leave a bad situation. That's her right."
"She's a Viper old lady—"
"She's nothing of the sort. She never married you. Never took your patch. She was just a woman you terrorized for two years until she finally found the strength to run."
Cole's face is getting red now, anger bleeding through the charming facade. "You think you can just harbor her here? You think there won't be consequences? We outnumber you four to one, Phoenix. The Iron Phoenix is what, nine members? TheVipers have more than forty and more willing to join. You really want to go to war over one bitch who—"
I move before he can finish the sentence.
My fist connects with Cole's jaw with a satisfying crack. He goes down hard, hitting his knees on the concrete floor.
The room explodes into motion. The two prospects reach for their guns. Razor steps forward.
But my brothers are faster.
Canvas has his gun pressed to Razor's temple before the old man takes two steps. Diesel has one prospect, Saint has the other. Both kids freeze, their hands halfway to their waistbands, eyes wide with the sudden realization that they're outmatched.
"Don't," Diesel says, his gun steady against the prospect's head. "Don't even think about it."
Cole is still on his knees, one hand pressed to his bleeding mouth. He looks up at me with pure hatred in his eyes.
"That's the line," I say, my voice cold. "You can threaten me. You can threaten my club. You can talk all the shit you want about starting a war. But you call her a bitch… You disrespect her in my clubhouse, and I'm going to make you regret ever learning her name."
I grab him by his cut, hauling him up just enough to look him in the eyes.
