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But for the sake of our club—for the safety of our women—ithasto be done.
“I spoke to the Baroness. She is still insistent on us carrying out the hit, even though she wants revenge on the Bratva just as much as we do. So I’m gonna get Houston on the phone tonight, get them on the first plane out here. As many of them as they can spare, and then… we’re takin’ this war to the Bratva. So take tonight. Spend it with the people you love because the next few days will be chaotic. We’re bikers. We fight hard. We protect what’s ours. I’ll be damned if we’re gonna let those Bratva assholes break us apart. Why?” he asks, placing his left fist over his chest.
We all stand, following in his footsteps, slamming our left fist on our chest and yelling in unison, “We are Defiance!” We pound our fists into our chests three times, bringing unity and a sense of brotherhood.
Hurricane bobs his head. “We’re NOLA fuckin’ Defiance, and we’re gonna obliterate those fuckin’ Bratva bastards until there is nothin’ left but their bones for us to crush into ash.”
We all burst into a round of cheering, throwing our hands in the air. Little Immy jumps again, but the mood of the Chapel is one of unity—of perseverance.
We have a huge job ahead of us.
A fucking tough job to do.
One that involves some fucking shitty tasks.
But if we stay united like this—we can do anything.
Now we have to wait for Houston to arrive…
… including their president, Six.
I don’t know what the future holds, but things are about to get fucking interesting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
South
As I lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, the idea that life at this club will get very anarchic over the next few days is terrifying.
Life for Ingrid will become complicated in a couple of weeks, and I need to ensure that not only me but the rest of her family are around when everything is going down.
When this fight happens, when we go to war with the Bratva and we take on Houston, I need to make sure I’m doing everything I can to back Hurricane and Bayou because my woman needs them like she needs to breathe. If I have to fight harder to keep them protected, that’s what I will do.
Fuck! If it comes down to us arguing over who’ll take the shot on Six, I’ll fucking do it to keep Ingrid’s family with her.
My mind is rapidly cycling after tasting Ingrid today and knowing tonight could be the last time I get to spend with her because tomorrow isn’t promised.
I roll over, completely restless.
Knowing she is only a few rooms away from me doesn’t help.
It’s late.
Everyone is asleep, or at least they should be.
But every inch of me is screaming to make sure she’s okay.
Ingrid’s been through so much today, and leaving her alone tonight feels like so many levels of wrong.
“Fuck it!” I murmur to myself as I throw back my sheets and stand. I take a second to really think this through. “What are you doing, South?” I quietly question, running my hand through my hair.
My heart hammers, telling me I should stop.
That this is a danger far too great to risk.
But my feet don’t listen as they head for my door.
I’m shirtless, wearing only tight boxer briefs, as I pull back my door and peek into the dimly lit hall.
