Dad called an emergency Church meeting the moment the prospect rode off. The chapel felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of old wood, cigarette smoke, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil from the weapons still strapped to every man’s side. Brothers filled the long table and lined the walls, faces grim under the dim overhead lights.
Jax stood at the head, shoulders squared, voice cutting through the low murmurs. “The meeting at the mill is a trap. We go in prepared or we don’t go at all.”
Knox slammed a fist on the table, his blunt energy barely contained. “We should attack the mill instead. End this now. Jezebel’s playing us like fools.”
Ryder leaned back in his chair, calm and observant, one hand resting lightly on the table. “We prepare carefully. Gather evidence first. Rush
