The Iron Reapers clubhouse was unusually quiet.
Morning sunlight filtered through the tall pine trees surrounding the property, casting long shadows across rows of polished motorcycles. Normally, laughter echoed from the garage by this hour.
Today, no one laughed.
The warehouse fire had changed everything.
Ryder "Grim" Romano stood at the head of the long wooden table in the club's meeting room—known simply as Church. Around him sat the officers of the Iron Reapers.
President Gabriel "Titan" Rossi folded his tattooed arms across his chest.
"They've crossed a line."
"They crossed it when they came after Rogue," Hawk replied.
Titan nodded once.
"And now they're coming after an innocent woman."
Ryder slid a photograph onto the table—the one left in Willow's cabin.
"You can't outrun
