EDWARD'S POV
“We broke the truce with Bloodmoon MC,” Eliot says from behind me. “Vixe will want to talk.”
“Then he should talk.” I drag a rag across the seat of my bike. “He sent his dog at me and I put it down. That’s on him.”
I toss the rag onto the workbench beside me, the metal surface already cluttered with tools, oil stains, and half-finished grease bottles, then roll my sleeves up my forearms.
Eliot exhales loudly. He doesn’t argue immediately, which means he’s choosing his words.
He’s been the buffer between me and everyone else for years. He smooths things over before they get worse and Kaz likes to say he’s the only reason we haven’t burned half the city down by now.
He’s not entirely wrong.
But there are lines. There’s always a line and today Vixe crossed it because he wa
