POV: Burn
The smell of burnt rubber and gunpowder still lingered in the air, a reminder of the night we’d just survived. We’d pushed the Crows back, but it had been too close. They were getting bolder, testing us. And if we didn’t hit back soon, they’d come harder the next time.
I stood outside the clubhouse, watching as Razor and the rest of the guys worked to secure the perimeter. Bullet holes scarred the walls, broken glass scattered across the lot, and the weight of the attack hung heavy in the air. We’d taken a hit, but we were still standing.
I wasn’t about to let the Crows think we were weak.
Razor came up beside me, lighting a cigarette, his eyes scanning the damage. “Hell of a night,” he muttered, taking a drag. “We’re gonna need to hit them back harder than ever, Burn.”
I no
