TEDDY
Church always felt different after bad news.
The room held onto tension like smoke clinging to old leather. The long wooden table at the center still carried half-finished drinks, cigarette burns, claw marks, years of arguments and loyalty carved into its surface. The stale scent of whiskey, engine oil, tobacco smoke, and worn leather hung thick in the air. Outside the closed doors, I could still hear the clubhouse moving—boots against old hardwood, low conversations, bikes rolling into tighter formation around the perimeter.
Lockdown mode.
Every brother in the Rogue Renegades knew the rhythm by now.
No loud music or unnecessary lights.
Permitere checked twice.
And eyes are always moving.
The hunters crossing into Jasper had changed the entire atmosphere of the compound. The
