POV: Burn
The clubhouse felt like a ticking time bomb, each second dragging us closer to the moment we’d hit La Morte Nera where it hurt. The tension in the air was thick, so sharp I could almost taste it. I stood near the entrance, my arms crossed over my chest, watching the men move around the lot like a well-oiled machine. The low rumble of engines and the click of guns being checked echoed around us, the only sounds in the cold night.
Every man here knew what was at stake. After what they did to Sophie, after they took her and nearly ripped her away from me, there was no holding back. This wasn’t about protecting the club anymore. This was about revenge. And I was going to make sure every one of them paid for what they’d done.
Razor was by the van, loading up crates of ammo, his fac
