Where the wild Hearts Ride

Chapter2

Smoke was still clinging to my leather jacket when I walked through the heavy wooden doors of the clubhouse, stepping right into a room full of gunpowder and boiling blood.

"Where are the keys to the armory?" Jesse shouted, his voice slamming off the brick walls before I could even shake the rain off my shoulders. He stood at the head of the long oak table, his chest heaving under his vest, surrounded by a dozen patch holders who looked ready to tear the city apart with their bare hands. "The Southside boys crossed a red line tonight, and if my old man won't open the lockers, I will kick the doors off the hinges myself."

I dropped my leather bag onto a side table, the metal zipper clicking sharply against the wood.

"You take one step toward that armory, Jesse, and you will spend the rest of the year visiting your boys behind bulletproof glass," I said, walking right into the center of the room with my chin up. "The Southside did not plant that bomb, and if you roll your bikes into their turf tonight, you are walking straight into a federal trap."

He spun around, his dark eyes narrowing into thin, dangerous slits as he fixed his heavy glare on me.

"You think you can walk in here and tell us how to handle blood on our streets just because you talk to judges all day, Ava?" he snarled, taking two long, aggressive strides until he was standing right over me. "A woman from our family is fighting for her life in a hospital bed, and you want us to sit on our hands and play nice?"

"I want you to use the brain inside that thick skull of yours instead of your fists," I snapped back, refusing to give an inch, tilting my head up so he could see I was completely unfazed by his size or his temper. "The driver of that car didn't wear colors. He wore a suit. Someone is trying to trick you into wiping out a rival gang so the police can finish off whatever is left of your charter."

"You expect me to believe some fairytale about a man in a suit while my brother's house is burning down?" Jesse growled, leaning down so close I could feel the hot, furious rush of his breath against my temple. The scent of rain, smoke, and pure adrenaline wrapped around us like a physical weight. "You are protecting people who want us dead."

"I am protecting this entire room from its own stupidity," I whispered, my voice dropping into an icy, steady tone that cut through his noise. "You want the gavel so bad you are willing to burn the whole neighborhood to the ground just to prove you have a spine. But you do not run this table yet, Thorne. Back off."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The other members stared at us, holding their breath as Jesse locked eyes with me over the table, neither of us willing to blink or back down. The air between us crackled with a thick, electric friction, half hostility and half a dangerous, raw heat that made my pulse race in a way I hated to admit.

Before Jesse could answer, the heavy oak door leading to the back kitchen swung open.

Evelyn, the oldest woman in the charter and the unspoken head of the inner council, stepped into the room. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyes held decades of weathered grit that even the president respected.

"Enough with the shouting like children in a schoolyard," Evelyn said, her voice dry and sharp as a razor. She looked past Jesse and fixed her gaze entirely on me. "Ava. Get in the back room. Now."

Jesse frowned, his jaw tightening as he turned toward the older woman.

"Evelyn, we aren't done talking about the Southside retaliation," Jesse protested, his tone dropping into a warning rumble.

"You are done talking period," Evelyn replied without missing a beat. "The council has business to attend to. Shut your mouth and wait."

I didn't hesitate. I picked up my bag and walked past Jesse, brushing my shoulder deliberately against his leather vest as I headed toward the back room. The tension in the air followed me every step of the way.

The back room was small, smelling of old paper, pipe tobacco, and roasting coffee. Four chairs sat around a scarred wooden table where the women who truly ran the financial arteries of the club always gathered out of sight of the men. Maeve and Sarah sat quietly in the shadows, their expressions carved from stone.

"Sit down, Ava," Evelyn instructed, closing the heavy door behind us so the noise from the main hall faded into a dull murmur.

I took a seat across from them, keeping my hands flat on the table.

"If this is about the legal fallout from the hospital, I have already filed the injunctions," I said, keeping my professional armor firmly in place.

"This is not about the courts, child," Maeve said, sliding a heavy leather ledger across the table toward me. "The men are ready to tear each other apart over ghosts, and Jesse is too blind with pride to see the corporate trap closing around our necks."

"He wants to prove he is stronger than his father," I admitted softly.

"Which makes him a liability," Evelyn said, leaning forward into the warm pool of light from the single overhead lamp. "And you are the only one with the backbone and the brains to steer this ship without crashing it into the rocks."

I looked down at the ledger, then back up at her wrinkled, unyielding face.

"What are you talking about, Evelyn?"

"The old men out there are losing their grip, and the boys are too hot-headed to survive what is coming," Evelyn stated, her voice echoing with absolute finality. "Tonight, the council met behind closed doors. We have looked at the books, we have watched you handle the feds, and we have seen you stand up to Jesse Thorne without flinching."

Sarah nodded, sliding a heavy brass gavel across the grain of the table until it stopped right in front of my hands.

"We just took a unanimous vote," Sarah said quietly. "You are officially the first female enforcer of the Old Ladies council. You have a voice at this table now, and you hold the authority to check the president and his son."

My breath hitched in my throat. I stared at the brass gavel, realizing the massive weight of what they were handing me. This wasn't just about keeping them out of prison anymore. This was a permanent seat at the table, binding me legally and physically to the syndicate.

"If I take this gavel, I am changing how this club operates from the ground up," I said, my voice dropping an octave as I met Evelyn's steady gaze. "No more blind wars. No more reckless blood spattering the pavement."

"That is exactly why we voted for you," Evelyn said, a rare, grim smile touching the corners of her mouth. "Now go back out there, show them your patch, and put Jesse Thorne in his place."