Ashes & Asphalt

Chapter Nineteen – Breach

The day had been quiet. Too quiet.

Jax stood on the porch of the compound, cigarette tucked between his fingers, gaze steady on the tree line beyond the gates. Inside, laughter echoed—Taylor and Dani, teasing Mason about something over coffee. The kind of peace he used to pray for.

But peace made men soft. And Jax Maddox never forgot what it cost to survive.

The door creaked open behind him. Kellan.

“Got something,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We caught signs of movement again. Not animals. Not random.”

Jax ground the cigarette out on the railing. “Where?”

“East fence. Same place as last week.”

That got his attention. Jax turned fully to him. “You’re just telling me now?”

Kellan shrugged slightly. “Because I wanted to be sure. Now I am.”

Jax’s jaw tightened. “How close?”

“Too damn close.”

Inside, Taylor’s laughter rang out again, soft and real. It was the kind of sound that made him ache—and made him dangerous.

“Round everyone up,” Jax said, voice sharp now. “Time to remind whoever’s watching what happens when you get too close to The Cage.”

Jax didn’t wait. The second the doors to the chapel slammed shut behind him, every man seated straightened up. No jokes. No beers. Just cold attention.

He looked like war in human form—black shirt rolled to the elbows, knuckles scraped from wrench work, jaw clenched. Kellan stood at his side, arms crossed. Mason leaned on the edge of the pool table, already tense.

“We’ve got a problem,” Jax said, his voice carrying through the room like a loaded gun.

Eyes locked on him.

“Someone’s testing our borders. East fence. Two sightings in the last week. Kellan confirmed it this morning—it’s not animals. And it’s not random.”

A murmur of voices rose, but Jax lifted a hand. Silence returned.

“I want eyes out. Shifts at all hours. No one steps outside without someone watching their six. We don’t wait to be attacked. We end it before it starts.”

Diesel sat up straighter. “You want surveillance or contact?”

“Both,” Jax growled. “If they’re local, we flush them out. If they’re outsiders, we make it clear they don’t belong. No warnings. No conversations. We eliminate the threat and leave what’s left as a message.”

A heavy silence fell. Everyone knew what that meant.

Kellan stepped forward. “We’ll double check the feed. I’ve got two scouts on standby. Let me handle the east flank tonight.”

Jax nodded. “Do it. Mason, grab backup. I want an aerial drone out at nightfall and old contacts checking chatter. If anyone’s sniffing around The Cage, I want names.”

Diesel added quietly, “What about the women?”

“They stay in the dark about this for now,” Jax said. “No reason to stir panic. But we keep them close. Taylor doesn’t step outside the compound without someone on her—clear?”

Everyone nodded. The room thrummed with readiness.

Jax looked around at the faces. Hardened men. Family. His people.

“We didn’t survive all this s**t just to fall now. Not while we’re finally building something worth protecting.”

His voice dropped, but the weight of it hit hard. “If someone’s coming for us… they better come armed. Because I’m not burying anyone else.”

The night was quiet—but not the peaceful kind. It was the kind of quiet that made Jax’s skin itch, every rustling branch a threat, every shadow a warning.

The bikes were parked by the east clearing. No engines. No noise. Just boots crunching over dead leaves and the click of Kellan’s flashlight cutting through the darkness.

“This part of the fence has a blind spot,” Kellan said, his voice low. “Thirty feet—no camera, limited visibility. If I were casing the place, I’d do it from here.”

Jax crouched near the brush line. “That’s how they’re doing it. They’re watching. Waiting.”

He didn’t need to say it out loud, but he did anyway. “This is what Ghost was always good at. Reading the field.”

Kellan didn’t answer right away. He knelt beside him, scanning the perimeter. “You’re not Ghost. And that’s exactly why the club’s still standing.”

Jax grunted. “You saying I’m replaceable?”

“I’m saying you didn’t die when he did. You didn’t let the ship sink.”

They moved in silence after that, flashlights off now, letting the moonlight guide them as they made a full loop around the fence. The wind picked up, carrying pine and damp earth. Somewhere, an owl hooted.

“Nothing yet,” Kellan said, adjusting his stance. “But they’ll come back. Testing us means they think we’ve gone soft.”

“They’ll learn fast,” Jax muttered, then paused. “You sure you’re still in for this?”

Kellan raised an eyebrow. “You planning to scare me off?”

“No,” Jax said, straightening. “Just making sure you understand what comes next. We handle this our way. Fast. Brutal. No hesitation.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I needed convincing.”

A sharp nod between them sealed the vow.

Suddenly Kellan stilled, hand raised.

Movement. Not loud—but deliberate.

Jax drew his weapon, low and ready, and crouched behind the tree line. Kellan mirrored him. Another crunch in the brush.

Then silence.

After a beat too long, Jax stepped forward, gun aimed—and found an empty beer can swinging from a low branch by fishing line. A trap. A test.

“Someone’s playing games,” Kellan said.

“They won’t be laughing long.”

The rigged beer can trap swung slowly in the breeze, a taunt in the form of tin and nylon string.

Kellan flicked it with his finger. “They’re not amateurs.”

“No,” Jax said darkly. “They know the terrain. Could be someone local. Someone who’s been watching long enough to think we’d miss this.”

Kellan scanned the area again. “You want to double back to the west ridge? If they’re probing, it’s not just one angle.”

Jax nodded. “Let’s move.”

They moved in silence, steps deliberate, eyes trained. This wasn’t just a patrol anymore—it was a hunt. Jax could feel it in his gut. His instincts were back. Sharper than ever.

When they reached the west ridge, the trees thinned. The land sloped toward a shallow gully with an old access road running below. That’s where Jax saw it—a faint flicker of light. A cigarette glow. Then gone.

Kellan saw it too. He dropped low beside Jax. “You want to engage?”

“Not yet. Let’s see how bold they are.”

They waited in the dark for several minutes. The glow returned, closer this time, followed by faint footfalls. A man stepped into view—leather jacket, hood up, shoulders tense. He wasn’t part of their club. Not one of Denny’s either. Too clean.

Jax signaled to circle wide. Kellan peeled off like a shadow, circling behind while Jax kept low.

When the stranger finally stepped far enough from the tree line, Jax made his move.

In a flash, the man was pinned against a trunk, arm twisted behind his back, Jax’s voice like gravel in his ear. “You got five seconds to tell me why you’re trespassing on Cage property.”

The guy panicked, writhing, but Jax held him steady.

“I'm—I'm just passing through,” the man stammered.

“Bullshit,” Jax snapped. “You rigged a trap. Watched from the ridge. You're casing the place.”

Kellan arrived, quiet and cold, gun in hand. “We don't like spies.”

“I—I’m not with anyone,” the man said quickly. “I was hired. Just told to watch. That’s it.”

“By who?” Jax growled.

“I don’t know his name! Older guy. Lots of rings. Paid in cash.”

Jax’s blood ran cold. That description could match one man from their past.

He released the guy with a shove. “Get out. If I see you near this property again, I won’t ask questions.”

The man stumbled off into the woods, disappearing into the black.

Kellan turned to Jax. “You believe him?”

“No,” Jax said flatly. “But I believe someone’s testing our walls. And they just got too close.”

Back at the compound, the room was thick with heat and voices as Jax walked into the war room. Conversations died fast. Every man there saw the look in his eyes—and knew this wasn’t a false alarm.

Jax stood at the head of the long table, Kellan close behind him.

“We’ve got movement,” Jax said, voice low but commanding. “Someone’s testing our lines. They know the terrain, they’ve been watching, and they’re getting bold.”

A few exchanged glances. Mason leaned forward. “You get a look?”

“One guy. Hired to watch,” Jax replied. “Didn’t know who he was working for—or said he didn’t. But I got a description.”

He turned to Kellan. “You remember Vance? Older, always wore those chunky rings. Used to roll with the Brass Talons before they went belly up.”

Kellan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Slippery bastard. Disappeared a few years back.”

“Well, he might’ve crawled back out from whatever rock he was under. Find him. Quietly. If it’s him, I want to know who else he’s working with, what he’s building—and if he’s aiming at us.”

Kellan nodded. “I’m on it.”

Jax turned to the rest of the table. “We’re not waiting to be hit. Patrols increase. West ridge and north trail need eyes twenty-four-seven. No one rides solo until we clean this up.”

“Understood,” Mason said, already reaching for his phone to dispatch the next rotation.

As the others broke off into motion, Jax stood at the edge of the room, staring down at the map of their territory, marked with pins and red tape.

This place had to be safe. For Taylor. For the life he was finally letting himself want.

And if someone from the past thought they could crawl out of the ashes to test him—they were about to learn how ruthless he could still be.