Chapter Eighty
Blade’s pov
The days that followed the highway m******e were defined by a silence so profound and heavy that it felt as if the air itself had turned to lead. The compound, which had once been a place of roaring engines, loud laughter, and the constant friction of brotherhood, had been transformed into a cold, shuttered fortress. Stone had ordered a total lockdown, turning our home into a prison of paranoia and grief. He was no longer just the leader of the Iron Reapers; he was a man obsessed, a predator stalking through his own halls in search of the unseen rot that had nearly killed his club.
I decided to lay low. It was the only rational move left to me. I retreated into the background, a ghost among the living. I stopped offering strategic advice, stopped attending the
